Aftermath
by Criminalmindsaddict16
Summary: "You know what I think it is?" "What?" "You're just mad because Hotch and I controlled our micro expressions at the hospital and you couldn't determine our deception." They all thought dinner at Rossi's might help heal the wounds Reid was feeling. They never believed he wouldn't just not show up. It's only when he disappears that they truly realize the aftermath of their action
1. Chapter 1

**For ahowell1993: Enjoy!**

 **I do not own Criminal minds or its characters.**

 **Two words will help you cope when you run low on hope: accept and trust -Charles R Swindoll**

Chapter 1

" _You know what I think it is?"_

" _What?"_

" _You're just mad because Hotch and I controlled our micro expressions at the hospital and you couldn't determine our deception."_

" _If you want to be angry with someone, be angry with me."_

" _I can't, I didn't come crying to your house for ten weeks."_

" _You mourned the loss of a friend, I mourned the loss of six."_

Reid attempted to block out the words he'd been subjected to over the past few days. All he'd wanted was a chance to come to terms with what had happened, but he couldn't. Not with the constant assault of words from his teammates; begging him to understand, accusing him of not controlling his emotional responses, telling him to move on. None of them had taken the time to consider why he'd had such a strong reaction. To guess that maybe he'd seen Emily's 'death' as just another abandonment. Like his dad, Elle, Gideon, he shouldn't have been surprised; they all left him in the end. But no, instead they had it had been necessary, for the greater good even, and he needed to get over it. But he couldn't, he faith in the team was shaken to the core and he doubted it would ever return to the stability it had achieved before the events of the past eight months.

 _If they even trusted me to begin with._ He thought darkly. As much as he would like to believe he was past such insecurities, there had been moments where he truly believed he was only tolerated by the team; a tool to be used for solving cases, nothing else. The debacle the team had underwent with Doyle only solidified that belief. Hotch and JJ had chosen to hide Emily's condition, Morgan and Garcia conducted their own individual witch hunt, and Rossi had completely closed himself off. None of them had cared enough to check on him, to be sure that he wasn't about to do anything detrimental to his health, only Ashley had. _Ashley!_ His head shot up at the thought of his girlfriend of four months; he was certain that some of the emotional pain he felt would be relieved at the sound of her voice. With slightly shaking hands, he drew his phone and dialed her number.

"Hello?" a soft voice answered.

"Hey Ash." he said, happy to have caught her at a time where she could talk.

"Hey Spence, what's wrong?" Ashley had always had an uncanny ability for picking out when he wasn't doing well.

Reid sank back against his couch, letting the emotional backlash he'd tried to keep at arm's length wash over him. "I had a rough week." he whispered.

"Why don't you let me in and we can talk about it." she told him.

"What?" He asked, racing towards the door, "you're here?" Reid flung his door open to find his girlfriend standing in front of him.

"Surprise!" Ashley said, wrapping him in a hug.

"What are you doing here?" He exclaimed, spinning her around his living room.

"Andi decided that the team needed a week off, and since our anniversary is in a few days, I thought I'd come surprise you."

"What did I do to deserve you?" he asked, kissing her lightly.

"You took a chance." she answered, cupping his face in her hands.

Reid smiled at the memory. " _Hey Spencer." Seaver called from her desk._

" _Hey Ashley." Reid answered. Noting the box next to her desk he asked, "Spring cleaning?"_

" _What?" Seaver looked at him in surprise before seeing what he had been referring to. "Oh, no, I guess Hotch and Rossi didn't tell you yet."_

" _Tell me what?"_

 _She brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes before answering, "Andi Swan offered me a spot in her unit and I accepted. I leave tomorrow."_

" _Oh," Reid tried to mask the pain and shock he'd felt at the revelation, "I wish you the best of luck." he said, sticking out his hand._

 _She gave him a disappointed look before shaking his hand, "bye Spence."_

 _After a few hours of paperwork, Reid had been set to head home when he noticed a picture on Seaver's desk. It was from about a month and a half after Emily's death, when he, Morgan, Garcia, and Seaver had gone to see that horror film. The first time he'd felt something other than heartache since Emily had died. They had their arms around each other and were grinning goofily at the camera. At least Morgan and Garcia had been, he and Seaver were smiling at each other._

" _Are you really just going to let her walk away?" a voice that sounded suspiciously like Emily's asked him._

" _No," Reid muttered before sprinting out the door. In his haste to leave, he'd forgotten the umbrella he'd packed in preparation for the torrential downpour Virginia had been subject to; so he was soaked to the bone when he knocked on the door of Seaver's apartment._

" _Spence?" she asked. "What are you doing here? You're soaked, come in before you catch a cold!"_

 _Reid followed her silently into the apartment, desperately trying to think of what to say._

" _Here's a blanket." Seaver said, holding out a large piece of fabric towards him._

" _Thank you." he muttered, gratefully accepting it._

" _What were you doing?" she asked._

 _Reid looked at her and whispered, "I needed to see you before you left."_

" _Why?"_

" _Because, because." He tried to get the words out, but for once he found he was incapable of rambling. Knowing that he was currently incapable of speech, and praying that she wouldn't kill him, he kissed her. "Because I like you Ashley. I like you a lot."_

 _Seaver studied him for a minute before knocking him onto the couch. "I like you too." she whispered before kissing him back._

"Spence?" Ashley's voice brought him out of his reverie. "What were you thinking about?"

Reid gave her a sheepish grin, "About the first time I kissed you."

She arched an eyebrow and asked, "And?"

"How lucky I am that I'm in a relationship with you."

"And how you're trying to distract yourself from whatever is going through your head right now." she said, studying him.

Reid sighed, "I don't want what happened to detract from the joy of you being here."

"I know," his girlfriend murmured, "but you also know it will be better if you talk about it."

"Things aren't getting better at work. Morgan and Garcia think I should just get over what happened. Rossi is losing his patience with me. Hotch wants me to blame him, and Jennifer accused me of being mad because I wasn't able to detect her micro expressions. I know I told Strauss that I would give it more time, but I honestly don't think I can stay on this team." He watched Ashley's eyes harden at the mention of what JJ had said to him before once again softening with worry.

"I'm sorry that they put you through that." she whispered, snuggling closer against him.

Reid planted a kiss on the top of her head before replying, "It's alright. I should have known something like this would happen. I just don't know what to do now."

Ashley gave him a mischievous look. "You know," she said seductively. "You could always transfer to my unit. Andi would love to have you."

Reid laughed. "As tempting as that sounds, I don't think that Strauss would approve. Something along the lines of no dating the members of your unit."

"I'm sure she'd be fine given the alternative." Ashley protested. "Besides, think about it, the two of us fighting crime together."

"Me making sure you don't do something bull-headed and get yourself killed." Reid teased.

"Oh, you are going to pay for that." Ashley exclaimed, shoving his shoulder. "Just for that comment, you can sleep on the couch tonight."

"Or you could really punish me." her boyfriend whispered seductively in her ear, sending chills down her spine.

"I could," she said, loosening his tie.

Reid's eyes darkened with anticipation as he let her push him down onto the couch. Ashley brushed her lips against his teasingly as he pulled her on top of him. Her fingers deftly unbuttoned his shirt as he deepened the kiss.

Buzz, buzz. The sound of a phone vibrating filled the air. "Ignore it." Reid pleaded, shrugging out of his shirt. The two continued their makeout session, only to be interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing, again.

"Maybe you should see who it is." Ashley suggested.

Reid looked at his phone and sighed, "it's Morgan."

"What did the message say?"

"Hey pretty boy, just wanted to check to make sure you were coming to Rossi's tonight. It's starting in ten minutes, so let me know." Reid looked up from his phone to find Ashley staring at him. "What?" he asked.

"Maybe you should go." she murmured. "I know you don't want to, and honestly I can't blame you. But they're at least trying to reach out to you. Please don't shut them out Spence, you know you'll end up regretting it."

Reid contemplated her words. While he was still extremely annoyed with the team, they were still his family. Families fought, but in the end they truly loved each other. "You're right," he conceded.

"Of course I am." Ashley smirked, "you should know that by now."

"You're coming with me though." Reid told her, stealing another kiss and then his shirt from the floor.

"Alright, but you're wearing a different shirt!" she called.

Ten minutes later they found themselves standing outside Reid's apartment, waiting for a taxi. "You know, it's not too late to go see a movie instead." Reid said hopefully.

Ashley glanced at him before muttering, "nice try. Look, there's our cab." The two watched as a car pulled up to a stop in front of his apartment.

 _They must be dropping someone off here._ Reid thought as the doors opened. Two people were getting out, but they weren't the normal passengers. They each held a semi-automatic and both hands, and too late had he realized that this was an ambush.

"Spencer!" he turned slowly at the sound of his voice. He felt as though he was moving in slow motion, yet his heart was racing a mile a minute. The two men had approached him on each side, one held a crowbar while the other held a solvent-drenched rag. "Spence, stay behind me." Ashley pleaded, reaching for her gun.

"Put that down missy." One of their assailants snarled. "We don't have any quarrel with you, just with young Doctor Reid here."

"Yeah, well you'll have to go through me!" Ashley retorted.

"That can be arranged." the man said, firing a single shot.

Reid watched in horror as Seaver's eyes widened in shock; a circle of red slowly expanding from her abdomen. "Ashley? Ashley, come on baby answer me. Come on." he pleaded, desperately trying to staunch the blood. He was so focused on saving her that he didn't notice the rag pressed against his nose. A deep, acrid scent filled his nostrils, and Reid was lost to the darkness.

 **Please Read and Review!**

 **A/n: taking a one month hiatus for the need to focus on pressing matters in my life. I also have not felt the need to write after some of the comments I read. While I am all for CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, I do not appreciate flames. Especially because I write as a way of dealing with depression. While these stories are for me, I post them so others can also enjoy them. Maybe I'll end up writing again, but at the time I need to focus on my life. Thank you to everyone who has read/ reached out about my stories. -xoxo Elisa**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi Everyone. I know it's been longer than my one month hiatus, unfortunately I've been in an area of no internet. Luckily I am back, and ready to write. Thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed, especially the ones who gave me advice about how to deal with flames. As I mentioned, I write fanfiction as a way of dealing with stress and the depression I've dealt with for almost 3 years so it kind of sucked to see all the negative comments. That being said I love to hear what you guys think but I'm not looking for flames. If you don't like it then don't read it because I won't apologize for the way I write or do characterization. A new chapter has been posted and I'm hoping to get another typed out by later today/tomorrowish. Thanks for reading, love you all!**

 **-Xoxo Elisa**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or its characters. This story is for my entertainment.**

Chapter 2

~David Rossi's Mansion~

"Hey kid, it's Morgan. Just checking in to see where you are, and to tell you need to get your ass to Rossi's soon. I know you feel that the world has wronged you, but you don't get the right to take out on the rest of us. You've never had the right to take it out on us, yet whenever you get hurt we're the ones in your line of fire. You're almost thirty kid, it's time to grow up. If you're not here in twenty minutes I'm gonna be driving to your apartment, and trust me, you won't like it if I have to do that." With a frustrated sigh, Morgan ended the call.

"Still no answer?" a soft voice asked.

"I didn't hear you come in." he said, not turning to face the focus of the team's drama.

"You were too busy trying to push a boulder up a hill. Derek, I get that this is supposed to be a team event, the first familial thing we've done since I quote unquote died, but it wasn't mandatory. We all knew that Reid was hurting, and maybe the best thing to do would be to give him some space."

"Why? So he can act like even more of a toddler?" A hurt voice slurred behind them.

Both Morgan and Prentiss turned to find JJ standing unsteadily in the doorway, a glass of wine in her hand. Their blonde teammate did not look well, her normally bright and expressive blue eyes puffy and red. Apparently the dilemma with Reid was hurting her more than she had originally let on.

"JJ.." Emily whispered.

"Don't JJ me!" The blonde snapped. "I am entitled to my opinion, and it's the truth. Spence is acting like a little boy who had his favorite toy taken from him. I wasn't the one who stabbed Emily in the gut with a chair leg, and I sure as hell am not the reason he almost relapsed; that's on him. How can he, for even one moment, think that he can blame me for doing what I needed to keep Em alive? I don't deserve this. And also, what gives him the right to keep taking jabs at me at every possible opportunity? He's not perfect either! And he keeps secrets from me too!"

"It takes a lot for the kid to trust people," Morgan interjected, "you know that."

"You know what?" JJ asked, inhibitions lessened by the alcohol. "He can do whatever he damn well pleases, I just won't care anymore. Obviously we don't matter as much to him as I thought we did. If we mattered, he'd let bygones be bygones and get over himself. Actually, I'm gonna go over there and give him a piece of my mind right now!"

Morgan and Prentiss exchanged uneasy looks, a drunken confrontation was the last thing Reid needed; especially from JJ. The two sat for a moment, deliberating who would be better suited to intervene. Luckily, the sound of italian loafers approaching saved them both the trouble.

"Hey Rossi, just give us a minute and we'll be right out to help with the dishes." The three friends turned at the lack of response, astounded that their older colleague had no witty retort to Morgan's comment. The oldest and most experienced profiler appeared to be in shock; one hand gripping the doorway for support, the other clutching an open cell phone. "Rossi?" Morgan asked, concern evident in his voice. "Rossi, c'mon now man you're scaring me. What's going on?"

His dark eyes met those of the older man as Rossi whispered hoarsely, "I just got off the phone with Andi Swan. Ashley Seaver was shot twenty minutes ago."

"How bad was it? Where was she taken?" JJ asked. Although Ashley had only been on the team for a short time, and JJ had never met her, she was one of their own. Any other pressing matters, like the Reid debacle, could take the backseat until her attacker was found and brought to justice. Such was the life of those in the FBI, especially the BAU, bonds forged through blood and tragedy.

"Uncertain at the moment." The somber monotone of the team's unit leader, Aaron Hotchner, filled the room. His penetrating gaze swept the room. "We have the lead with Agent Swan's team running backup. Grab your things and let's catch the son of a bitch that injured one of our own." Without a backward glance he grabbed his sport coat and opened the front door, already visualizing the most effective approach for the case.

His inner musings were only interrupted by Garcia's tentative voice, "Sir, what should we do about Reid?"

Hotch was relieved that, with his back to them, the team could not see the slight flinch he gave at the youngest team member's name. If there had been some way for him to foresee all the problems faking Emily's death would cause, he would have rethought his decision. He wouldn't have changed it necessarily, for it had kept her safe, but he would have argued more about bringing the entire team into the loop about her quote unquote death. _I did what I did to keep Emily safe. Surely, even Reid can understand the practicality of that. If we just give him time, he'll come to his senses. We just need to give him time._ "Call him and tell him we have a case. His phone should be on considering we are always on twenty-four-hour alert."

At first he wondered if Garcia had heard him, but then the familiar clacking of a phone number being dialed echoed through the hallway. About fifteen seconds passed before the usually chipper technical analyst's irate voice filled the hallway. "Boy wonder if you do not answer this phone in the next ten seconds; you're going to wake up to find all of your hair shaved off, your coffee poured down the drain, and all of your Doctor Who memorabilia locked away in my lair. Do not test me."

 _Pick up Reid._ Hotch silently pleaded. _The last thing you need right now is an angry Garcia confronting you. The last thing any of us need is an angry Garcia, especially since you'll perceive it as everyone on this team ganging up on you. Don't let us push you farther away than you've already travelled. Don't cut the ties with the scissors we've all but handed you._ "Garcia, let it be. It's late, and he might have felt the need to catch a movie. He can help us tomorrow."

"Oh," shame tinged the tiny syllable as everyone pondered the implications of Reid catching a movie. The term had first been brought about by Reid arriving late to a case-briefing and, when interrogated by Rossi about his whereabouts, had given the feeble excuse of attending a movie and losing track of time. This excuse, like his not so subtle pleas for help almost a year prior, served as both a blessing and a warning. The blessing being that Reid was no longer travelling the dark and dangerous path Tobias Hankle had set him on, but should something disastrous occur, he could be seduced to and lost in the shadows. A path that Hotch doubted they would be able to pull him out of.

"Let's go." He ordered, drawing the team's attention back to the case at hand; they could deal with Reid later.

"Shouldn't we split up? Half go to the crime scene and half go to the hospital?" Morgan asked, confused that the unit chief had not yet delegated tasks.

"We would if we knew where the crime scene was." Hotch answered. "Seaver's assailant or assailants dropped her off at the front door of trauma at Saint Mary's, and none of the scanners within a fifty-mile radius picked up any chatter about shots being fired.

"Do they have any idea what it was?" Rossi asked, "A hit? A mugging? Did she break up a crime?"

"Impossible to determine without viewing the crime scene, but we can probably rule out a mugging. Nothing was taken from her, but her badge was opened and placed on top of her body when she was dropped off."

"A taunt," Rossi murmured, "they knew she was an agent and wanted to ensure that we knew they knew."

"Could other agents be targets then?" Prentiss asked. An unspoken "this can't be happening" hanging in the air. None of them wanted to face the possibility of agents being targeted so soon after Doyle.

"We won't know until we get there. Garcia, how long will it take us to get to Saint Mary's?"

"Factoring in traffic at this hour, about fifteen minutes sir."

"Let's make it ten!"

The blue and red lights echoed through the twilight street as the two SUVs raced towards the hospital; the blare of sirens cutting through the eerie silence. The usually bustling streets of Stafford, Virginia was in hiatus from the many festivities that graced the state during this month. It seemed as if the brisk September night held an omen of future tragedy.

"Morgan and Prentiss canvas everything within a two-block radius of the trauma center. Garcia, pull up everything you have on Seaver; both personal and professional. I don't want anything left unsearched. JJ you can help her. Dave, you and I will go talk to Agent Swann and get an update on Seaver's condition. If anyone hears from Reid, tell him to get his ass in gear to the hospital. We need him."

The team murmured their agreements before splitting off to their different assignments. "Funny how things change," Rossi murmured. "We first met Ashley in a hospital, and now here we are again."

Hotch grimaced at the memory. The Redmond Ripper had been one of the many that still haunted his nightmares.; especially since they'd had to tell a ten-year-old girl that her father had murdered her mother. "At least she's still alive."

The two men's somber expressions did not waver when Andi Swann came into view. Strong-jawed, with flowing auburn curls, Andi Shaw had established herself as a leader in a field dominated by men. Her human-trafficking task force had a case success rate high enough to compete with that of the BAU. "Agents Hotchner and Rossi thank you for coming." She said, barely glancing at Hotch; her hand extended to Rossi.

The two men exchanged wary glances, her slight at the unit chief did not bode well for inter-team cooperation.

"Thank you for having us." Rossi said, shaking it. "What have you determined so far."

Despair briefly flashed through Agent Swann's eyes before she laid out the facts in a cold and clinical manner. "Agent Seaver was dropped outside the trauma center at 20:43. The vehicle was a generic black four-door SUV with Virginia plates: Echo-Alpha-16-Niner-96. The hospital staff could not point out any defining features, but they did hear a male voice calling for a gurney. The blood pooling on the back of Agent Seaver's shirt indicated that, as we initially thought, she had been shot at a secondary location and then brought here."  
"Why keep her alive though?" Rossi pondered. It wasn't often that an ambushed agent was brought in to be treated by their assailants.

"There's a possibility that she was not the primary target." Agent Swann answered. "She might have just stumbled on to a crime. We won't know more until she gets out of surgery."

"What have they found?" Hotch asked.

Agent Swann considered him for a moment before acting as though she had not heard him speak.

Hotch gritted his teeth. After two weeks of dealing with a hostile Reid, the last thing he needed was the silent treatment. "I'm sorry," he growled, "but have I somehow offended you or made you think you can get away with treating me like this?"

Agent Swann's eyes flashed dangerously. "Word travels quickly Agent Hotchner," she snarled. "We've all heard about that stunt you pulled, and the wounds it left on your agents. I don't want that anywhere near my team. In fact, where's Spencer? I'd much rather work alongside him for the time being."

"Spencer?" Rossi asked incredulously. "Spencer Reid?"  
"Yes," Agent Swann answered. "I'm surprised he isn't up here already, all things considered."

"What are you talking about?" Hotch asked.

"You really don't know?" Thinly-veiled bitter amusement gleamed in Agent Swann's eyes. "Dr. Reid is Ashley's boyfriend."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or its characters. This is for my entertainment purposes.**

 ***Note*Some quotes/scenes from 'Revelations'**

Chapter 3

Spencer woke to a pounding headache, and the blurred outline of a muted lightbulb swinging above his head. _Am I dreaming?_ _Please tell me this is a nightmare._ He thought anxiously rubbing his eyes, or at least attempting to. _No, not again._ Law enforcement grade handcuffs encircled his wrists, the links strapped down by a leather belt; effectively restricting his range of motion. He pulled frantically on the restraints, desperate to find a weakness he could exploit, while his eyes surveyed the scene before him. He sat barefoot in the middle of a small rundown shack, the only other furnishing was a small iron stove in the back corner. A pungent aroma wafted through the area, burning flesh and a salty blood; transporting him back to a time when he was still green to fieldwork, still naïve at heart.

 _"They're gone now." An avenging angel towered over him._

 _"Who're they?" He asked timidly._

 _"It's just me now."_

 _His voice cracked. "Who, who are you?"_

 _"I'm Raphael."_

"No, no! I'm not a sinner." He shouted trapped in the memory.

 _"Confess your sins Spencer Reid." A log slammed into his foot sending waves of pain throughout his leg._

"No, stop! Please!" his heart rate escalated as he tried to pull himself out of the memory his current predicament had placed him in.

 _The barrel rolled like dice as a voice whispered, "Choose."_

 _"Kill me."_

 _"You said you weren't one of them."_

 _Mom, I'm sorry. I wish I could say goodbye. "I lied." The gun clicked but no bullet came out._

 _"Your team has six other members. Tell me who dies."_

 _"No." Another click, but no death._

 _"Choose, and prove you'll do god's will."_

 _"No." His luck was running out._

 _"Choose."_

 _"I won't do it."_ "I won't do it!"

The sudden slamming of a door freed him from his memory. A man stood before him, but it was not Tobias, his father, or Raphael; he was not back in Georgia. The man was shorter than Tobias and more stockily built, his meaty hands covered by leather gloves. He stood in the shadows so Reid could not determine his race or any defining features; except for his eyes. His eyes gleamed with the light of a madman, a man who enjoyed the cruelty he inflicted on others. "Hello Spencer." He said, sending chills down Reid's spine.

"It's Dr. Reid or Supervisory Special Agent Reid." Reid snapped back. His heart was still pounding at an abnormally fast rate, but he refused to be the same scared little boy he had been in Georgia.

His captor chuckled, as if amused by his tenacity. "Why be so formal when we're going to have so much fun together?"  
"Are you high?" Reid asked incredulously.

"No Spencer, but give me some time, and I promise that I'll put you right back into that nice little opiate-aided oasis you were swimming in about three and a half years ago."

"No you won't," Reid muttered.

"Really?" the man asked, "and why is that?"

"You're a narcissistic sadist who gets off on the amount of pain he can inflict on others. Pumping me full of pain medication wouldn't do anything for you because it would put me until a bliss I can only dream about. You might think that I have a fear of getting addicted again, but you couldn't grant me a better favor. The only reason I stopped was because of how close my supervisor was to uncovering the truth and firing me." He bluffed.

"That's interesting Spencer, tell me more."

"You call me by my given name instead of by my title or surname because you want to assert your dominance over me. For you, names have power and you believe the condescending manner you're using mine in will give you control. Another example of your lust for control and dominance is the fact that you positioned me in a manner like one of the worst experiences of my life. You knew that it would further unsettle me, especially after I watched my girlfriend die protecting me."

"Trying and failing to protect you." His captor interrupted.

"You wanted to gauge my reaction," Reid continued as though he hadn't heard the man speak. "You wanted to see how well your twisted little experiment affected me. If the data was as good as what you'd read. And yes, I know that you read the case file because only those with my level of clearance or higher know about this case. From this I can deduce that you work in the FBI, most likely in one of the higher positions of power. Although you and I have never met, you've run into me and formed some delusion that Agent Seaver and I wronged you. I say that we were both the targets, though I was probably your primary goal, because you specifically waited until she was with me. You wanted her to be there when you took me so you could inflict the maximum amount of pain possible on the both of us. My guess is you've been dirty for a long time, and one of the cases we worked on was close to exposing you. Too close. So you needed to silence us. The funny thing is, we might not have connected the dots, but my team definitely will."

"That's an interesting theory Spencer." The man's condescending manner betrayed little irritation, as if Reid were a mere schoolboy trying to one up the professor.

"It's my training as a profiler for the Behavioral Analysis Unit, as well as my degrees in the psychology and sociology fields." Reid retorted.

"You didn't answer my question though."

"You won't drug me because it will release me from the pain you're about to inflict. And you want to watch me squirm while you inflict it, to create as much damage possible."

His captor shoved a thin black object forward, a camera.

"Let's test that theory." He said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi Everyone! I would first like to thank everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, or favorited Aftermath. Words cannot describe how amazing it is to read your input, and hear about how you believe the story will progress. I would also like to thank everyone who has offered words of encouragement about dealing with flames; it's helped a lot! Be sure to stay tuned, because things are about to heat up!**

 **-Xoxo Elisa**

 **Don't like don't read. But if you do like, be sure to review!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or its characters. This is solely for my entertainment purposes.**

Chapter 4

"They're what?" Morgan shouted.

Hotch grabbed his arm, dragging him into an empty room as a passing nurse gave both a dirty look. "Morgan keep your voice down! We're in a hospital you know."

"How could he not tell me? We're supposed to be best friends, brothers even."

"Yet you kept your witch hunt for Doyle between yourself and Garcia?" Hotch noted. "Maybe you two aren't as close as you believe yourselves to be."

"At least I didn't lie about Emily's death." Morgan retorted.

Hotch sighed, "I thought we were past that Morgan."

His subordinate glared at him, "I guess you thought wrong. It's gonna take a lot more than I'm sorry for me to forgive you for the pain you put me, put us through."

"Morgan, I could apologize until I was blue in the face but I won't. One, because I know that it would mean nothing. There's nothing I can possibly say to make you forgive or trust me again, only time will tell. I hope, one day, you will find it in your heart to forgive me. However, we cannot have this level of distrust and anger right now; we owe it to Ashley."

The younger man sighed, "You're right. I just wish the kid had confided in me. It hurts knowing that such a large gap has formed between us. I don't know where I went wrong."

Hotch gave the younger man's arm a comforting squeeze. "I wouldn't say that you went wrong, so much as you've had a lot on your mind the past few years. I'm sure Reid understands that, and probably thought you needed some space. He probably thought that we all did; that he was alleviating our stress by not reaching out."

"Or maybe he thought that he didn't have the right to be happy," a soft voice offered. "Maybe he thought that it was too soon after I was 'gone' to talk about something so great. Knowing Reid, he felt guilty that he found a light to detract from the darkness."

"Emily," Morgan started, "you've got to stop feeling so guilty about what happened. You were unconscious and fighting for your life when the decision to extract you was made." Shooting Hotch a dark glare, the younger man added; "Out of everyone here, you should feel the least guilty about what happened. You did what you needed to do, and unfortunately this was the result."

"Thanks Derek." Emily smiled, for maybe the first time that night, "that's not what I came to talk to you both about though."

"What is it?" Hotch asked, instantly reverting into team leader mode.

The younger woman first glanced at him, and then at Morgan. "The head surgeon for Ashley's operation just came out of the operating theatre." She said. "One of the bullets is lodged in the L3 vertebra. They're going to try to extract the bullet and repair the tissue, but there's a good chance that the nerve damage will be too severe."

"What does that mean?" Morgan asked, dumbfounded by the revelation.

"It means that, when Ashley wakes up, she will probably never be able to walk again. It means that her time as an agent will be over."

"No, it won't." Hotch interrupted. "She might be done with fieldwork, but she won't stop being an agent. If Agent Swann's team doesn't have use for her, then we'll find something. We take care of our own."

"The fact that she might be a paraplegic does nothing to affect how much of an asset she is to my team. Ashley will have a spot on human trafficking for as long as she desires, nothing changes that." Agent Swann snapped, entering the room that the majority of the BAU had converged in.

"My apologies." Prentiss said, holding her hands up in surrender. "I didn't mean to imply that Agent Seaver's skills as an agent were dependent on her ability to walk. I was her training officer when she was still in the academy. I know how impressive she is."

"You mean until you decided to go on your little witch hunt for Doyle?" Agent Swann asked maliciously. "Yes, I'm sure those two months you spent training her really forged a strong bond between the two of you. Strong enough that she would have nightmares about finding her teammate, only to realize that she was too late; that they were dead because they didn't trust her enough for her to help them. Do you have any idea how negatively your 'death' impacted both Ashley and Spencer, Agent Prentiss? Do you even care?"

"That is enough!" Hotch roared, stepping between the two women. "Agent Swann you need to find some way to get that giant chip off your shoulder because, not only is it extremely unprofessional, but you weren't there! You didn't know what the circumstances were like, you didn't know what was at stake, and most importantly you don't know my team; despite your misconstrued assumption that you do. I have known Dr. Reid for close to a decade, and believe me when I say that he only let you see what you would expect him to be feeling, nothing more."

Agent Swann arched a delicate eyebrow, "Is that so?"

Hotch nodded, "absolutely."

His colleague gave him a triumphant smile before digging into her briefcase and withdrawing a folder. Handing it to Hotch she whispered, "Maybe you don't know Spencer as well as you thought you did; not anymore. I found this when I was searching Ashley's purse for evidence, he must've wanted a second opinion before sending it. Still think your house isn't broken Agent Hotcher?"

Hotch's angry retort vanished as he realized what he was holding.

 _Attn: Section Chief Erin Strauss_

 _From: Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid; Behavioral Analysis Unit Team Alpha_

 _Ma'am,_

 _Please find enclosed a copy of my letter of resignation. I would like to acknowledge now that I did take your advice, and give the team a full month before finalizing this decision. Unfortunately, I have found reconciliation between my teammates and myself to be a Herculean task. I cannot provide trust and respect, without the certainty that it will be reciprocated. In this past month I have found that, while I can, for the most part, maintain a professional atmosphere with my colleagues, I cannot fully collaborate with them. This lack of unity is partially due to my own experiences with abandonment, but also because of the lack of accountability taken. Everyone is so desperate to forget the trauma we all sustained that no one will admit that we are broken; that we have been broken ever since Emily 'died'. Maybe I am a coward and a fool for admitting this, but I am broken. I am a rubber band that has been pulled in too many directions; only now I find that Emily's 'resurrection' has snapped me; has snapped my trust in the team and my faith that I am doing what is right. How can I be on the right path when my feelings about this whole debacle have been attacked at every turning point? Do I not have a right to feel angry? To feel shattered by this lie? I doubt that they realize this, perhaps things would have been different if they had known, but Emily's death was the first for me. The first time I had found someone I loved ripped from me; that I was reminded that we rise from the dirt and to the dirt we return. I guess technically, I could say that Agent Hotchner's wife Haley's death was the first; but it would not be the same. Emily and I had a bond forged through the blood and darkness of our occupation; the same bond I thought I shared with the rest of the team. Now I am not so sure. I truly am sorry Ma'am. I did my best to forgive, but that's the unfortunate consequence of an eidetic memory; you never forget the slights against you. Hopefully I will one day find my way back to the job that has given my life meaning, but until that time comes I must remove myself from a situation I never would have believed to find myself in._

 _Thank you for your time and consideration._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Dr. Spencer W. Reid_

"Oh my gosh." Prentiss whispered, voicing Hotch's sentiments. "Reid was going to quit?"

"The kid should've reached out." Morgan muttered, "it should never have gotten to this point."

The unit chief said nothing, instead choosing to gauge the other unit chief's expression. To his surprise Agent Swann did not look triumphant, only sad. "Ashley asked for two weeks off to go see Spencer." She said softly. "I assumed that it was because their anniversary was in three days, but now I wonder if she had ulterior motives; if she was going to try to talk Spencer out of resigning."

"Would he accept a position in your unit if you offered it to him?" Hotch asked.

Agent Swann gave him an incredulous look. "You want me to ask _your_ agent if he wants to be reassigned to _my_ team?" she asked.

"It would be better than him leaving the FBI." Hotch said, pushing back his own hurt feelings. Yes, it would suck if Reid chose to work for another unit; but it would be more manageable than him throwing away a job he had worked so hard to achieve.

Agent Swann opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by the frantic clicking of heels. A hysterical Garcia, followed closely behind by a concerned Rossi and a tearful JJ, burst into the room. "Llll-look!" she whispered, thrusting a small object into Hotch's hand. Recognizing it to be Reid's cellphone, he powered the device on. The lock screen greeted him but, instead of the picture of Reid and his mother, there was simply two words: _Missing someone?_


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or its characters.**

Chapter 5

"Garcia track the path both Reid and Seaver's phones took today, as well as all incoming or outgoing texts, emails, and phone calls they received." Hotch ordered, dread filling his stomach. _Please not again! Not Reid! Not after everything this team has put him through. Please, just let him have one day of peace._

"What are you thinking?" Agent Swann asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

"I'm thinking that Reid was with Seaver when she was attacked; only they didn't drop him at the hospital. So he's either currently with them or in a ditch."

"Hotch!" Prentiss scolded, gesturing towards a now sobbing JJ.

The unit chief's cheeks flushed a bright red in shame. For all their bickering in the past month, Reid and JJ still had a bond that transcended the ones of friendship and family. Neither could stand to watch the other hurt, and would go out of their way to ensure that their friend would be removed from the line of danger. For him to even state the possibility that Reid was dead would have a detrimental impact on JJ's already fragile mental and emotional states. "I'm sorry JJ," he murmured, "I didn't mean to suggest that Reid was dead."

Watery sapphire eyes met his. "S'alright Hotch," JJ sniffed, "you were just pointing out the possibilities. I shouldn't have gotten so upset. I, I was just thinking of how awful it would be if the last conversation Spence and I had consisted of us screaming in each other's faces. I should never have said what I did to him, he didn't deserve it."

Prentiss gave her friend a comforting squeeze. "We'll find Reid," she said reassuringly, "and then you two can hash everything out. How's the digital back trace coming Garcia?"

The bubbly technical analyst's perky voice rose as she read the data streaming through her hard drive. "Okay, so I have Reid turning his phone on at five this morning. From five to eight he was at Prescott Park, and then at the Starbucks© on Jefferson St. After that, he returned home and did not leave until seven thirty tonight. He called his mom at one, and the only messages he received were from Ashley and us: ten from Morgan, seven from JJ, four from Prentiss, two from Hotch, one from Rossi, and eleven from me."

"What about Seaver?" Morgan asked.

"One moment my chocolate thunder," Garcia replied. "So Ashley flew into Dulles from Austin at ten this morning."

"We had just finished a case there." Agent Swann added. "The cartels were stealing girls along the Texas-Mexico border to sell as sex slaves; it was really bad."

"I don't know how you handle that day in and day out." Garcia said. "I have enough trouble with the psychos we deal with, but to deal with those kinds of cases. Oh, I can only imagine the conditions you must find them in. That must be so sad."

"Garcia, focus!" Hotch ordered.

Garcia saluted. "Yes boss man! So after arriving in Virginia, Ashley went to Maple St."

"That's where her apartment is." Prentiss said. Noting the incredulous looks she received she muttered, "What? Ashley invited me over for dinner one night."

"Anyway," Garcia continued, "she didn't leave her apartment until six forty-five. She called Reid about five minutes after leaving, and arrived at his apartment shortly after. At seven thirty, she leaves Reid's apartment. From there the trail goes…" her voice trailed off as her monitor screen blinked to life.

"Oh my goodness!" Garcia shrieked, dropping her laptop.

Morgan scrambled to catch it. "Baby girl, what's going…" his voice also trailed off as he gaped at the screen.

"What is it?" Rossi asked.

Two hoarse voices whispered in unison, "Reid!"

At the mention of the Dr. the others crowded around the laptop, not liking what they saw. Like the Hankle case, Reid sat handcuffed to a chair in the middle of a wooden shack; the only difference being the cobalt blue t-shirt and dark wash jeans he wore instead of khakis, a button-down shirt, and a sweater vest. His feet were bare and bruised and a thin trail of blood wove its way down the left side of his head.

"No," JJ whimpered. "No..no…no-no-no-no. This can't be happening, this can't be happening! Please! Oh god Spence! Spence I'm so sorry!"

"Garcia get JJ out of here!" Hotch ordered, "Neither one of you needs to be here for this!"

The plump blonde nodded before ushering her slimmer companion out the door. She could only imagine the emotional turmoil her friend was going through; even now JJ's blue eyes were glazed over as if she was lost in a nightmare.

"Anyone else who wants to leave should get out now." Hotch murmured. "There's no telling how quickly things will escalate."

"I'm not leaving." Morgan said, glaring at Hotch. "The kid needs me!"

"He needs all of us!" Rossi corrected, Prentiss nodding vehemently. "We're not going to abandon him now!"

"Thank you." Hotch said, grateful he would not have to endure this on his own; it had been difficult the first time Reid was taken, there was no telling how awful this time would be.

His eyes drifted back to the screen; noting Reid's posture and facial tells. His subordinate slouched in the hard-backed wooden chair, his cuffed hands resting on his thighs. Reid's warm brown eyes were narrowed into slits, as the often were when he was in deep concentration, and focused on something directly behind the camera. Then, suddenly, his head tipped back and Hotch could hear him emit a soft snore; as if bored by the proceedings.

"Kid's doing a good job of hiding his fear and anxiety." Morgan noted, nodding in approval.

Hotch glanced over at his subordinate before shifting his gaze back to the monitor. Morgan was right, to the untrained eye Reid looked relaxed and at home. But, to those who knew him in a truly intimate manner, the façade was easy to see. The veins in Reid's forearms popped due to the amount of tension contained in his clasped hands, and he was blinking at a rate about one point five times above average. These slight tells, as well as Reid's relaxed posture, were enough to tell Hotch that the doctor was a. well aware of the type of situation he was in, b. had analyzed his captor enough to decide how to play the situation, and c. was doing his best to keep any cracks out of the façade he had built around himself. "We need to find him soon." He murmured to himself.

As if they had somehow heard Hotch's assessment, Reid's captor entered the frame. "Oh BAU, look what I have!" he taunted, shoving Reid's chair. Reid's eyes flickered over to the camera, displaying both shame and an intense pain that could only be expressed through his tell-tale orbs; it was obvious that he wanted anyone but his family to be watching now.

"Say hello Spencer!" the other man ordered.

Reid smiled weakly before saying, "hey guys. Looks like I'm not going to be able to make the team dinner at Rossi's tonight. I hope you all had a good time."

His captor chuckled, "Oh, isn't that sweet. Your pet genius is more worried about missing a team bonding event than spending time with me. Then again, if he had been a little more attentive, maybe he wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. Maybe he would have been able to connect the dots, and see the checkmate." The man sighed, "But I guess he was too busy being upset about the fact that Agents Jareau and Hotchner controlled their microexpressions and he wasn't able to detect their deception."

Reid's pale cheeks colored in embarrassment at this statement; indicating he believed the man's words.

"But don't worry Spencer, you won't ever have to worry about getting into arguments with your team again; not after I'm done with you. Maybe they'll find enough of you to put into Agent Prentiss' fake casket."

Reid gave his captor a steely gaze and snarled, "Do whatever you want with me, but leave them out of this!"

"I would," his captor said with mock sympathy, "but it's just too much fun to keep them involved. I can't wait for them to watch _every single moment._ Why don't we get started?"

Reid's eyes followed the man as he reached for something outside the frame. "What are you doing?" he asked, barely containing the fear in his voice.

"Oh Spencer," his captor chuckled, "I need to leave a little bit of mystery in our relationship." He reentered the frame, a long-tipped syringe in his hand.

Reid's eyes dilated in fear. "No, no I don't want it! I don't want it!" he stuttered, desperately trying to free himself from his restraints.

"Shh," his captor hushed, removing his belt.

The team could only watch as the unsub wrapped his leather belt around Reid's bicep, and isolated a vein at the crook of his elbow. Turning back to the camera he said gleefully, "Because he thought about it!" before injecting the syringe's contents into Reid's veins.

The giant brown orbs flickered in shock before rolling back in the doctor's head. As Reid slumped into unconsciousness his captor promised, "Don't worry BAU. There's plenty more where that came from!" He reached towards the screen, and the image went black.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi Everyone! Thank you so much for the reviews! I'm so so glad that you like the story. I am literally posting these chapters as soon as I find the time to type them, so stay tuned. -Xoxo Elisa**

 **Don't like, don't read. But if you do like, be sure to review!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal minds, its characters, or anything else. This is just for me!**

Chapter 6

"Damn it!" Morgan's angry voice was punctuated by the sound of a fist slamming into the wall.

"Morgan!" Hotch warned, his eyes still on the monitor.

"This is how I deal with things that piss me off, Hotch." Morgan said through gritted teeth. "I can't keep it contained through a robot-like mask like the rest of you. I can't pretend not to care."

The older man whirled on his colleague, eyes flashing. "You think I don't care? You think I don't realize what's at stake. How we might not get Reid back. And if we do, we're going to have to deal with everything he went through. We're going to have to deal with the guilt and the anger and the broken Reid that none of us will know how to help!"

"I think that is probably the most selfish thing you've ever said." Morgan retorted. "How could you even think that what we'll be dealing with is anything close to what the kid will have to go through? He worked his ass off to get clean the first time, without any of our help mind you, and he barely made it through. All we did was sit back and judge him; we didn't offer any help or any encouragement. I don't even know how we can live with ourselves, how Reid can still work with us, knowing that we were bystanders to his suffering."

"Reid needed to get clean on his own, Morgan. You know that."

"That's bullshit! He needed us!"

"Morgan," Hotch's detached manner wavered for a moment. "If any of us had stepped in to help we would have put both our jobs and Reid's in jeopardy. Do you really think that Strauss would've let him take the time he needed to get clean? No! She would've seen it as a chance to get rid of him; and that would have killed him. Nothing is more important to Reid than this job."

"Not true." A soft voice whispered. The team turned to find JJ standing in the doorway, her eyes puffy and bloodshot. Avoiding eye contact the blonde added, "The job might have opened up doors Spence wouldn't have considered, but he realized after Gideon left that it wasn't everything. If it had been, he wouldn't have stood by Hotch when Haley was murdered. He wouldn't have not asked to be reinstated when we went before the senatorial review committee. He wouldn't have been so hurt by what happened to Emily. You can say what you like about Spence, but he is so much more than just this job."

"JJ, I told you to go get some fresh air." Hotch said gently, "I don't want you anywhere near this until you're one hundred percent focused."

"Spence needs me!" the blonde retorted, "I'm not going to let him down like I did four and a half years ago. Hotch, please let me help! You know you're going to need everyone to find him!"

The older man studied her for a minute before asking, "Is Agent Seaver out of surgery yet?"

"Yes, she just woke up. Garcia's sitting with her right now."

"Okay, JJ and Prentiss will go with Agent Swann to talk to Seaver about what she remembers up until Reid was taken. Morgan, you and Rossi will head to Reid's apartment. See if you can find anything out of place or anything that might help. Chances are either Reid or Seaver knew their assailants because this feels way too personal. I'll help Garcia compile a list of possible unsubs, and hopefully our unsub left a trail of breadcrumbs for us to follow."

"Wait," Morgan said, preventing everyone from leaving. "Does anyone know where Reid lives?"

"36 Chestnut Ave." Agent Swann answered, unfazed by the fact that none of the BAU members had been to visit their younger colleague. "I'm not sure what floor he's on, but he lives in that apartment complex. It was listed in Ashley's emergency contact information."

"Ashley listed Reid as her emergency contact?" Rossi asked incredulously.

"Who was she going to ask Dave?" Hotch asked. "Her dad's in prison, her mom is dead, and she has no other family. It makes perfect sense for her to choose Reid."

"That's not what I meant," Rossi said hastily. "I was just a little surprised that things were that serious. How long have they been dating?"

"It'll have been five months tomorrow." Agent Swann supplied. "They both say that it's not serious yet, just two people enjoying each other's company, but anyone with eyes can see how much they love each other. They're both just too bullheaded to see it."

"That answer your question Morgan?" Hotch asked.

"Yeah, one of them." Morgan said, looking like he wanted to ask more but decided against it.

"Let's get to work then." The team split off to their assignments, promising to call if they found anything.

"Anything we should know before heading in?" Prentiss asked as she trailed behind Agent Swann.

"Just that she's weak and you need to be gentle with her." The older agent replied. "She woke up to learn her boyfriend was taken and she might never walk again, it would upset anyone." Stopping outside the room at the end of the hospital's intensive care unit she noted, "We're here."

The three women entered to find a careworn Garcia comforting a sobbing figure. "Shh, shh Ashley. Everything's going to be fine hun. Spencer's going to be perfectly alright. We're going to get him back, and he'll make everything better." Her hazel eyes flickered up towards the entryway and she mouthed, 'She remembers watching him get taken. Help me!'

"Ashley?" Agent Swann said softly. "Do you know where you are?"

The blonde nodded timidly, "I'm in the hospital. Spence and I were leaving his apartment to go get dinner, and two men approached us. They drugged him, and shot me. I watched them.." her voice trailed off as she noticed the other two women standing in her doorway. Tear-filled blue eyes narrowed into slits as she snarled, "Get out!"

"Ashley?" Agent Swann asked, placing a hand on her subordinate's shoulder. "Ashley, honey. They're here to help bring Spencer home."

"Huh!" the young woman scoffed. "Like they actually care about him."

Prentiss winced at the hostility in Seaver's voice. "Ashley, please, you don't know the whole story. Please, just let us explain before you make any rash decisions."

"So you didn't fake your death?" The young woman asked her. Nodding at JJ she added, "And she didn't aid your deception?"

"Well, yes. I did fake my death, and JJ did help." Prentiss said uneasily, "but.."

"And you let Spence come to your house for ten weeks in a row, a sobbing mess, but did nothing?" Ashley now had JJ in her crosshairs.

"I did what I had to keep Emily safe!" the other blonde retorted. "It wasn't ideal, but it was necessary. Doyle would've killed Emily if he'd known she was alive. Even Spence must realize that."

"Even Spence? Even Spence?" Ashley asked incredulously. "Do you even hear what you're saying? You fucked up, and yet you're too proud to admit it. Instead you're just looking for another scapegoat to place the blame on for your mistakes. That's why you got so pissed at Spencer for being upset with you. Because reacted as any human being with a heart would have, and you couldn't come to terms with the fact that you had shattered the trust of someone you used so much. And yes Jennifer, I do mean used. Isn't that what you do? You use people. I mean, you knew what Spencer's feelings about you were, and you used them to your advantage. _"Oh Spence, I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!" "Spence, I want you to be Henry's godfather since you mean so_ _so_ _much to me." "She never made it off the table Spence." "You can come to me Spence." "No matter what I'll always be here for you!" "It's your own fault that you didn't figure out what Hotch and I were up to. If you'd been a better profiler maybe you would've been able to see our micro expressions and detect our deception." "It's not my fault that you're so upset, it's your own."_ The younger blonde mocked, her eyes filled with angry tears.

"Shut up, just shut up!" JJ yelled.

"What's the matter Jennifer?" False sympathy tinged Ashley's voice. "Don't like being painted as the bad guy?"

"I did nothing wrong!" the older woman exploded. "You're just a little bitch with daddy issues, who got into the academy because Rossi felt bad for you. Then, somehow, you managed to manipulate Spence into a relationship with you. You probably thought that it'd help you get into the BAU if you slept with him."

"I did not sleep with him!" The younger agent interrupted. "Believe it or not but I am waiting until I find my soulmate. Maybe it will be Spencer, maybe it will be someone else. The fact that you would even think that would be the reason why I would date Spencer just goes to prove that you don't see him the way you should. He is the best thing I've had in my life in a very very long time, and I love him even if he doesn't love me back!" She collapsed into heartbroken sobs, her entire body shivering from the intensity.

"I think Ashley needs to rest." Agent Swann said, her voice frosty.

"We still need to talk to her about last night!" Prentiss argued feebly.

"That can wait. You've done enough damage for the night."


	7. Chapter 7

***Note* Some dialogue from Revelations**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, its characters, or its dialogue.**

Chapter 7

 _"Spencer, please go to the other room." His father dismisses him without a single look._

 _"Don't treat him like a child." His mother snaps.  
"I'm not going to have this conversation in front of him." His father retorts, glaring angrily at his mother._

 _"Statistically, children who grow up in two-parent households attain three more years of higher education than children from single-parent households." He helpfully inputs._

 _"We're not statistics, Spencer!" His dad scolds him._

 _"I'm not crazy." His mom argues, drawing his dad's wrath back onto herself._

 _His dad sighs, "If you refuse to take care of yourself, I can't help you."_

 _"I do take care of myself!" his mother says indignantly._

 _"What day is it?" His dad challenges._

 _"That's not fair."_

 _"I'm out of ideas, Diana." His dad says exasperatedly._

 _"Well, you could take Spencer with you, just for a little while." His mom suggests hopefully._

 _His dad barely spares him a glance before saying, "Don't do this."_

 _"You're weak!" his mom hisses venomously._

 _"You're right. Goodbye." His dad tells him before leaving._

 _Spencer turns to his mom, "I'm not weak." He assures her._

 _"I know honey." She says with a weak smile._

"I'm not weak!" Reid insists, still under the influence of a dilaudid-induced haze.

 _"Yes you are."_ A voice whispers nastily.

"I'm not weak!" Reid says again, desperately trying to convince himself.

 _"Yes, you are." Ashley appeared in front of him, the front of her blouse crimson red with blood._

 _"Ashley?" He raced towards her, desperately trying to cover her bullet wounds with his hands. As soon as he had managed to staunch the blood of one wound, another popped up. "Ashley, Ashley, c'mon stay with me."_

 _"I can't Spencer." She whispered, a milky film covering her irises. "I'm already dead and it's your fault."_

 _"No, no it's not. I didn't pull the trigger." He cried._

 _"But you stood back and let them shoot me." She accused. "I was willing to give my life for you, and you let me. You had more experience, but you were more than willing to cower behind me."_

 _"I never asked you to though. I would never let you get hurt." He pleaded._

 _"Yet you did nothing."_

 _"She's right you know." Emily stood next to him, her features blank and her abdomen bloody. "You heard me use the alias Lauren Reynolds, but you did nothing."_

 _"I didn't know." He whispered. "I thought you were talking about a friend. You never talked about your life before the BAU, none of us did."_

 _"You should've known Reid." She scoffed. "You are the genius after all."_

 _"How could I when you didn't let me in Emily? How could any of us have helped when you were so determined to shut us out?" he whispered._

 _Her dark eyes narrowed, "you saw the signs! You should have done something."_

 _Ashley appeared next to Emily, her features pale in death. "You should have saved us Spencer." She whispered, "we're dead because of you."_

"I'm sorry," he sobbed, "I'm so so sorry. Emily, Ashley please forgive me! I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to save you!"

His eyes shot open to find himself as he had been before succumbing to the opioid's unwelcome embrace. He was still situated in the center of the small shack, his hands bound in front of him. The tell-tale bruises of fresh track marks littered the crook of his right arm, mixing with the scars both he and Tobias Hankle had inflicted four and a half years ago. A slight tremor ran through his body, the byproduct of a taser being thrust against his side. Reid grimaced as he recalled the feeling of fifty thousand volts of electricity coursing through his body.

If given the choice between being beaten, stabbed, or tased; Reid would gladly choose to be stabbed or beaten. Unfortunately, his captor had not given him that luxury. What had once been his favorite t-shirt was now a ragged mess; slashed to pieces by a large butcher knife. None of the slash marks had been deep enough to draw a significant amount of blood, but each felt as though someone had continuously run a sheet of paper across his abdomen until he received a papercut. He couldn't see to be sure but, based on his calculations of the force behind each punch, he was certain at least three of his ribs were cracked. For some unknown reason, his captor had not struck him anywhere above the shoulders; granting him a small boon. While his faculties were hampered by the drugs coursing through his bloodstream, he did not have a concussion.

 _You really are weak._ A voice whispered in his ear; not Emily's, Ashley's, or his mother's, but his own.

 _No, I'm not._ He retorted.

 _Only someone who was weak wouldn't even attempt to escape._ The voice reasoned. _Go ahead, prove me wrong._

Reid's light brown eyes scanned his surroundings. Luckily his captor had not bolted the chair legs to the floor, allowing him a small amount of freedom to move. Reid slowly but surely inched the wooden chair across the room until he found his quarry. Long, flexible toes stretched out to latch onto the shoelaces of his sneakers; drawing them back to him. With a slight exertion of effort, Reid transferred the shoes into his lap and removed the soles. After the Hankel incident, he had been sure to give himself a means out of the sticky situations the BAU tended to find itself in. This out consisted of cutting a small hole in the bottom of his favorite pair of sneakers, and hiding his magician's lock picking kit inside. Reid smiled as his fingers brushed against the polished steel of his kit, and set to work on the locks; moving with a speed only acquired through years of practice. In addition to hiding the lock pick in his shoe, Reid had also practiced getting out of handcuffs every time his nightmares of Hankel and relapsing woke him. The nightmares had been frequent, and his adoption of this habit had allowed him to both: master a new skill, and rid himself of his fear of handcuffs; one he had acquired during the Hankel case.

A soft click drew his attention back to his -now free- hands. Reid stood abruptly, and raced towards the exit; there was no telling when his captor would come back. He warily cracked the door open and checked that he was alone before leaving. Instead of the forest or field he had expected, he found himself in a long hallway; he was still trapped in the unsub's territory. Blood pounded in his ears, as he hurried down the hallway, deafening him to the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. His fingers brushed the knob of the hallway exit when something angular collided with the back of his head; temporarily stunning him. A beefy forearm cut across his throat, cutting off his oxygen supply, and an angry voice whispered, "You're going to regret that." Reid fell back into the man's arms, dizzy from the blow and lack of oxygen; his last thoughts before losing consciousness were of the large hunting knife the man held.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal minds or its characters.**

Chapter 8

"How is she?" Rossi asked Morgan. The team had spent nearly forty-eight hours in the hospital, but had still not gotten a full account of what had happened from Ashley. It seemed that every time they were about to learn something productive, one of the team said or did something to upset the young agent. A particularly negative encounter had been directly after he and Morgan had returned from Reid's apartment.

 _"Want to explain why there's a pair of handcuffs on each end of Reid's headboard?" Morgan demanded, storming into the room._

 _The younger agent looked at him for a minute before saying, "Excuse me?"  
"Why were there handcuffs on Reid's headboard?" Morgan asked through gritted teeth._

 _"I don't think that's any of your business, Morgan." Ashley retorted. "If Spencer wanted you to know, he would've told you."_

 _"What? That he's dating a controlling and manipulative dominatrix?" Morgan snapped. "Maybe I should report you for assault because it seems like the kid's been in an abusive relationship, if the marks he left from tugging on them are any indication."_

 _"Or maybe Spencer cuffs himself to the bed before he goes to sleep so the nightmares won't drive him towards taking dilaudid!" Ashley said angrily. "Maybe the nightmares are so bad that all he wants to do is forget. But he can't forget, he can only try to keep the pain at bay. Why do you think he was addicted for four months? He literally replays his worst memories every single night, and the dilaudid numbed him to the pain. He didn't take it because he thought it would be fun or because Hankel addicted him; he took it because all he wanted to do was forget! Only it drew up the other memories he wanted gone. Do you have any idea what kind of memories being on that stuff brought to the front of his mind? Did you even ask? You can say anything you want about me, but at least I gave enough of a damn about Spencer to try to help him when he was hurting. Where were you Morgan? Where were you during the Owen Savage case? Where were you when Prentiss got the shit beaten out of her? Where were you when Hotch's wife died? More importantly, where were you when Emily 'died'. Huh?"_

 _"Don't even start with the guilt trip!" Morgan snarled. "the kid could've asked for help any time he wanted to! But he didn't, and that's on him."_

 _"Only because he was terrified of what you would think of him!" Ashley cried. "Did you ever consider that maybe your opinion meant the world to him? That he is constantly terrified that he won't be good enough? He already feels inadequate, especially to this picture you've painted of what a true man is. That a true man is a muscle-bound freak, who only cares about working out and getting laid. How could he ever measure up to that when he has the ideals a true man should have; standing by his beliefs, striving to grow and learn, treating a woman the way they should be treated, how does he compare Morgan? You say that you two are best friends, like brothers even, but all I see is a bigot trying to change someone who does not need to be changed. You all wonder about why Spencer never comes to you for help, but how do you know he hasn't? How do you know that he hasn't asked and you just blew him off? You want to know how I found out about him cuffing himself to the bed? I saw bruising around his wrists one day at work, and I confronted him about it! I asked him if he was in an abusive relationship or had been assaulted, and he said no. I was going to go to Hotch, but he told me exactly what was going on. About how whenever the urges were too strong for him to control, he tied himself to his bed; to ensure that he wouldn't do something he might regret. Fortunately, he's able to control those cravings while he's awake. But not when he sleeps, or tries to pass what he does off at sleep. He told me about how, after Prentiss got beaten, his nightmares were so vivid that they mixed with his cravings and he slept walked out of his apartment. He was headed towards the nearest distributor. That scared him so so much, he was convinced he would one day relapse if he didn't act. I'll agree with you, it's not the healthiest way of dealing with things, but it keeps him clean. Who am I to judge him for trying to stay that way?"_

 _"You should've said something to one of us." Morgan scolded her._

 _Ashley considered his words before responding, "and have jeopardized Spencer's trust like that? I don't think so. I kept quiet because it meant that he had someone to talk to, who knew what he was dealing with, so he wasn't shutting everyone out. Can you honestly tell me that you would have been supportive if you'd known?"_

 _"No," Morgan admitted, "I probably wouldn't have."_

 _"And there you have it. The reason why Spencer didn't tell you."_

 _"Doesn't make it right."_

 _"If the world was only right we would be out of a job. I think I'm going to try to get some rest, come back later."_

"She's still pissed at Emily and JJ." Morgan replied. "It's impossible to conduct a cognitive with her emotions so volatile right now."

"Can you blame her?" Rossi asked. "Based on what she's told us, she has a right to be. Dealing with both her and Reid's nightmares must have been emotionally taxing on her."

"I still don't get why the kid didn't come to me." Morgan admitted, "I could've helped him."

"Probably for the reasons Ashley gave," Rossi offered. "But also, because the two of them bonded so quickly."

"Really?" Morgan asked, "I never noticed."

The older man chuckled, "Oh, yes. Though they were very good at hiding it. Reid reached out to Ashley after her first case, and helped her come to terms with what her father did. He even got her to read the letters her father wrote; she didn't end up forgiving him, but she did find closure. I'm pretty sure that Ashley was the first to notice Reid's headaches, and I'm guessing she's the one who bullied him into drinking less coffee. Don't feel so bad, Morgan. The kid needed someone to fill the gap JJ left. Luckily it was someone he could relate to."

"How do they relate better than any of the rest of us?"

"Only child, smarter than their peers, ostracized for circumstances out of their control, striving to make a difference in a world that was so cruel to them…ring any bells?" Rossi stated.

"I guess," Morgan admitted, "I just wish she wouldn't be so hostile towards all of us. We did the best we could to help the kid."

A high-pitched shriek cut off Rossi's response, and he and Morgan both burst into the room, guns drawn. JJ, Prentiss, and Garcia surrounded the bed, all trying to console a hysterical and sobbing Seaver; tears streaming down all their faces.

"What happened?" Morgan demanded.

A ghostly pale Hotch pointed to the foot of the bed. On the floor was a small cardboard box, slightly cracked open. Rossi grabbed a glove and upturned the box; feeling queasy as he did so. Two objects fell onto the immaculate floor, a disembodied human heart and a slip of paper with two words: _Happy anniversary!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi friends! First off, let me say wow! Thank you all so much for the favorites, follows, and reviews. I'm really blessed to have such awesome readers. Next I would like to reiterate what I hope readers of my other stories have realized: I do not kill major characters off. I will gladly kill off unsubs or minor characters, but not any of the team. However, the team doesn't know that... Next, I would like to address a point of confusion from the previous chapter. Quite a few of you asked about whose anniversary it was. I had stated in a previous chapter that Reid and Ashley were three days away from celebrating their five month anniversary at the beginning of the story. In the timeline those three days had passed, making the day of their anniversary when the box was delivered. I have two goals for this chapter: 1 to gain a little sympathy for JJ, and 2 to stress how this situation is dividing the team even further. Happy reading! -xoxo Elisa**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or its characters.**

Chapter 9

~One Week Later~

 _Please, please let them find something; anything!_ Morgan couldn't help but laugh at the irony of the situation he was in. It hadn't even been three and a half years since he'd found himself in a similar situation, praying to a god he wasn't sure he believed in, for some type of relief from what could be the greatest loss since his father died. He desperately wanted to believe that Reid was still alive, but the rational side of his mind argued about how damning the evidence was. The heart was human: check. The blood present in the veins and arteries was type AB negative, Reid's blood type: also check. No videos detailing Reid's torture since the arrival of the heart: check. All pieces of evidence that indicated the high probability of the kid's demise, but there was still one variable left to be checked; the toxicology screen. If the tox screen came back negative for any trace of opiates, the team would know there was still a chance for redemption, a chance to find the one puzzle piece that made them all whole. But if the tox screen came back positive, they'd be planning another funeral, only this time the coffin wouldn't be empty.

Click. Morgan's head snapped up at the sound of the forensics door opening; Hotch and Rossi both stepped out, expressions warning Morgan to not ask any questions. The younger man silently rose to his feet and followed his superiors down the hallway; not stopping until the three other members of his team were within sight.

"What did the lab say?" Garcia and JJ asked at the same time.

Hotch said nothing, his features blank of emotion. No matter the situation the team found itself in, the unit chief's features were always arranged in a never faltering stoic mask.

Rossi's emotions, however, were on full display: anger, grief, and a hint of guilt.

"Rossi?" Morgan prodded, "man please tell us what the lab said."

Deep brown eyes contacted all the members of the team before the Italian muttered, "there were traces of dilaudid found in the bloodstream. The heart was Reid's."

Morgan sank back against the wall, his emotions hitting him like a ten-ton truck of grief. _The kid's dead. He's never coming back, and the last thing I said to him was that he needed to think of how his actions were affecting the rest of the team. Man, I am an ass._ "Has anyone told Seaver?" he asked, voice strained with the emotions he could only attempt to hold at bay.

"Not yet." Hotch answered, "we thought it would be best to not tell her; not with everything else she needs to deal with now."

"Don't you think she deserves to know?" Morgan snapped. "Don't you think that the small shred of hope you're allowing her to cling onto might be more damaging than anything we say?"

"It's for the best Morgan," JJ murmured.

"Oh, you mean like only you and Hotch knowing that Emily had survived? That was for the best too, wasn't it? And look at where it got us JJ. Tell me, what gives you the right to decide what is best for someone else? Huh? Man, I can finally see where the kid is coming from. You'll emotionally manipulate anyone and everyone so long as it fits your needs; without any regard for how it might impact them."

"Stop it Morgan!" JJ shrieked, tears running in floods down her cheeks. "Don't you dare lecture me about my actions! I did what I needed to do to keep Emily safe, why can't you see that? We needed to sell the illusion that Emily was dead so Doyle would buy it! One slip! That's all it would have taken for Doyle to find her and finish what he started. You should be thanking me Morgan! Do you have any idea what kind of stress I was under? What Hotch was under? We had to be on every second of every damn day to ensure that Doyle's spy didn't go scurrying back with news about Emily."

"What spy?" Morgan scoffed, "Doyle left as soon as he knew the job was done."

"Then why did he leave someone to observe our unit?" JJ demanded. "Why the hell would he have someone infiltrate a floor of heavily armed and well-trained agents to deal with someone he had already murdered?"

"Obviously he suspected he might not have gotten the job done! I don't know Morgan. All I know is that Hotch and I found a burn phone, with Doyle's number, in Agent O'Malley's desk."

"O'Malley was a spy?" Garcia squeaked.

"Yep," JJ said, her eyes narrowed at Morgan. "But _some people_ were more interested in the fact that Hotch and I didn't tell anyone we faked Emily's death instead of why we might have gone to such lengths. That we might have had a valid excuse for what we did."

"Or maybe I was more interested in the fact that you told your quote unquote best friend that the reason he was so angry was because he couldn't accurately read your micro expressions. That a very junior profiler would have the audacity to suggest such a thing to one of the brightest minds the FBI has ever seen!"

"And I will have to deal with the fact that was the last conversation I will ever have with Reid!" The blonde's shoulders shook in huge sobs. "Do you have any idea how much that will haunt me? Knowing that the last thing I ever said to Spence was that it was his own fault that he couldn't figure out Emily was alive? That I acted like a complete sociopath by allowing him to come to my home and cry about a lie for ten weeks? That he considered taking dilaudid, and that jackass who took him used that decision as an excuse to torture him. And now he is dead, so I will never get a chance to rectify my mistakes! How am I supposed to live with myself knowing that Morgan?" Her voice softened into a plea, "How?"

Morgan sighed before answering, "JJ, I've told you this before and I'll say it again. That part you need to figure out for yourself."

JJ's sobs increased as she thought of another time she had been overcome with guilt about her best friend; of how once again it was her fault. "I need some air." She gasped, hustling to a place where she could fully break down without anyone to watch or judge her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or its characters.**

Chapter 10

 _A gentle autumn breeze wafted through Ashley's hair, blowing the curls directly into her line of vision. "That's a great look for you." A familiar voice teased, blowing a handful of leaves her direction._

 _"No fair! I wasn't ready." She retorted, batting them away. "You really are a cheater!" she accused, playfully shoving her companion's shoulder._

 _"No, I'm not!" Reid exclaimed, his voice comically high. "I just know how to apply situations to best suit my needs!"_

 _"Aka a cheater!" Ashley answered, "no wonder you're banned from almost every casino in the US."  
"That is a gross exaggeration!" Reid laughed, grabbing her from behind._

 _"Hey!" she shrieked, half-heartedly attempting to escape._

 _"You know you love me!" he teased, pulling her close._

 _She shrugged, "maybe, maybe not."_

 _Reid fell back, clutching his heart. "I'm wounded," he pouted._

 _Ashley pulled him close, laughing at his theatrics. "Okay drama king, I do love you." She murmured, "maybe I was just too scared to admit it."_

 _"But you let me die," The chocolate brown eyes she loved hardened, "you let me die Ashley."_

 _"No Spencer," she cried, reaching for him. "I tried to save you! I tried!"  
"You let me die," he accused, fading into the air. "You let me die!"_

 _"No, Spencer! Spencer come back!" she begged, desperately grasping at the air. "Please, Spencer come back!" Spencer!"_

"Ashley!" "Ashley!" a sharp voice jarred her from the nightmare. Ashley's sapphire blue eyes opened to find an anxious Emily Prentiss hovering over her. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"Get out!" Ashley snapped, angrily wiping the resulting tears from her eyes.

Prentiss' eyes hardened with resolve, "not going to happen." She retorted, "I was told to keep an eye on you, and I'm not going to disobey an order just because you're pissed at me."

"How many times do I need to tell you to stay the hell away from me before you get the message. Do you have any idea what your 'death' did to me? What it did to Spencer?"

"Actually no," Prentiss admitted. "I have no idea how it affected you. I don't know how it affected anyone because no one will talk to me about it. It's like no one wants to own up to the fact that they're angry with me, and that really sucks."

"Yet you still tried to guilt Spencer into forgiving you," Ashley retorted. "Without any idea of how deeply you affected him, you tried to guilt him into becoming your friend again."

Shame tinged Emily's cheeks a bright red. "I did. I couldn't handle that the member of the team I was closest to could barely stand to be in the same room as me. That I had pushed him to the point of abusing a substance that nearly destroyed his life. I couldn't deal with the repercussions, so I pushed him to forgive me before he was ready to. And you. I didn't even try to make amends with you, and I did as much damage. I know we didn't know each other for very long, but I can't even begin to imagine what it must have felt like to have your training officer ripped from you. That I abandoned you at a time where you would have needed me the most. Ashley, please understand how sincere I am when I say that I am genuinely sorry for everything I put you and Reid through. I know it doesn't make up for it, but I am."

Ashley considered the older woman for a minute before asking, "how much do you know about how you affected Spencer?"

"Not nearly enough," Emily admitted, "mainly what I overheard from his fight with JJ, what you've said to everyone, and my own deductions."

"Spencer would be so pissed at me for showing you this," Ashley replied, reaching for her bag; "but you deserve to know." She fiddled with the device for a minute before pressing play. "This was the message I got from Spencer the day you came back to the BAU."

Strangled, gulping breaths filled the air, followed by the unmistakable voice of a clearly agitated Reid. _"Ashley, hi. I know you're working a shitty case, but I just needed to hear your voice; even if it's the message. I am so so sorry, I just didn't know who else to call. I think I'm losing my mind; that my luck has run out. I must be having some type of schizophrenic break because I just saw Emily. She was alive, and in the conference room, and she felt so solid. But she can't be real, we buried her. You watched me carry her coffin, we all laid roses on her grave. She can't be real, she can't be real, she can't be real. I'm so sorry. Emily I'm sorry! I should've saved you! I'm sorry! I'm sorry."_ The harsh ding of a dial tone cut Reid off mid-sob.

"He had an anxiety attack the day I returned?" Emily whispered, her composure whittled away to nothing. "I came back and he thought he was having a schizophrenic break? That I was a ghost coming back to haunt him? Oh Reid, why didn't you say something?" Tears trickled down her cheeks as she thought of exactly how much emotional and psychological pain she had caused. "I should've stayed dead," she murmured.

A slim hand slipped into hers. "Spencer and I would have braved that pain a thousand times if it meant your life." Ashley reassured her, offering a weak smile. "Nothing would have been more painful than realizing that you were truly gone."

"Like Spencer is?" Emily asked tearfully.

Ashley nodded, her voice cracking with emotion, "so you were actually going to tell me that he's gone?"

"Against Hotch and Rossi's better judgement," Emily said, "I knew it would hurt so much more if we didn't tell you."

Deep blue eyes met dark brown ones. "Thank you." Ashley whispered before the raw anguish of losing someone she loved overcame her. The two women held each other, grieving over the loss of something no one had realized until the arrival of that box, the heart of the BAU.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi Everyone! I must apologize. I promised two chapters by the end of the weekend, but unfortunately will only be able to publish one. The writer's block is still sapping my creative abilities. I'm working hard to overcome it. I would like to thank everyone for answering about why they watch Criminal Minds, why they sided with Reid, and what they hope the next season will bring. You've given me some wonderful ideas. Keep reading and I'll keep writing! -Xoxo Elisa**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or its characters.**

Chapter 11

Clank. The sound of rattling chains woke Reid from yet another dilaudid-induced memory; this time it was Gideon's letter that haunted him. It seemed that everyone abandoned him in the end. Perhaps accepting that he was predestined to be perpetually alone would allow him to prevent his mind from shattering.

"Wakey, wakey Spencer." The taunting sing-song of his captor's voice wafted through his cell; sending shivers up Reid's spine. There was no telling when, and in what form, the pain would come. Five days had passed since his first and only attempt to escape; five days of absolute hell that not even a large dosage of dilaudid could dampen. The beatings he had endured from 'Charles' felt like feathers compared to the ones he had attained in the past five days, and the pain would only escalate. However, unlike Charles' assault, the means of pain varied daily. Swollen eyes flickered shut beneath the thick cloth, that blinded him to the world, as he recalled the brutality inflicted on him each day.

 _Day 1 (Moments after his attempted escape)_

 _"You little bastard!" his captor snarled, cuffing his hands around one of the room's support beams. "Did you really think it would be that easy?"_

 _"Huh..huh..huh." His breath came out in deep pants, as his body recovered from the chokehold that had nearly crushed his larynx. "Not necessarily easy," he retorted, "but your arrogance and narcissistic tendencies certainly left me with enough to devise multiple strategies for escape." He paused to spit blood at his captor's feet, "hubris will always be man's downfall."_

 _The cold, dead eyes of his captor darkened with hate. "Wouldn't that be like the pot calling the kettle black, Spencer?"_

 _Reid shrugged, "Maybe. But I admit my shortcomings, and use my weaknesses to strengthen myself."_

 _His captor chuckled, "Consider this a strengthening exercise then." Leaving his captive with little time to brace himself, the man back-handed Reid before landing a swift one-two to his unprotected abdomen._

 _"Mmmff!" Reid bit down on his lip so that blood_ _was drawn_ _instead of a scream of pain._

 _Day 4_

 _"Wakey,_ _wakey_ _Spencer!" The creak of the_ _unoiled_ _door had already awoken him, but he gave no sign of awareness._ _The addition of_ _a thick cloth tied tightly over his eyes did little to curb his fear of darkness, but greatly assisted his act. Reid knew it would only be a matter of moments before his deception_ _was uncovered_ _, but a tiny part of him reasoned that his reprieve from the torture would be prolonged for as long as he could feign unconsciousness. "I said, '_ _wakey_ _, wakey Spencer!'" A low buzz filled the air, and a sharp two-pronged object connected with his ribcage. Fifty-thousand volts of electricity coursed through his body, causing his muscles to dance spasmodically._

 _"Ughh." Reid said, unable to contain the groan of pain._

 _"Well, that woke you up!" His captor said gleefully. "Let's see how high your pain threshold truly is." Rough hands tore the heavy cloth from Reid's eyes and unlocked the padlock chaining him to the ceiling. "Don't try anything stupid." His captor warned, shoving him forward._

 _Over twenty-four hours of non-movement had left his limbs cumbersome and useless. The rough boards reopened a cut on the bottom of his foot, causing him to slip on the blood. Crash! He hit the floor heavily, his cuffed hands thrown in front of him to take the brunt of the impact._

 _"Get up!" a harsh voice snarled in his ear, followed by a swift kick to his ribcage. Sweat dripped from his lank bangs as he pushed himself up and over to the operating table in the center of the room. "Lie down." His captor commanded, shoving him backward._

 _"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice laced with panic. The previous three days had come in a repeatable pattern: large beating followed by an even larger dosage of_ _dilaudid_ _. The blindfold was always kept on, and he would be beaten while tethered to the_ _eyehook_ _. The fact that both aspects of his captor's routine had changed frightened him because a change in the unsub's ritual was never a good sign._

 _Click. His captor removed the handcuffs before strapping his arms down to the table with wide leather straps. "I was bored," was the only explanation given before multiple electrodes_ _were applied_ _to his forearms, legs, and abdomen._

 _"Wh-what are you doing with those?" Reid asked, struggling against the table._

 _"Seeing how your body responds to repeated electrical stimulation." His captor responded._

 _"You can't!" Reid pleaded, "the stress will cause my heart to give out." His next words_ _were interrupted_ _by a familiar beeping sound._

 _"Don't worry Spencer," his captor reassured him. "I won't let it get that far. I just want to see how much fun we can have." He placed a heavy wad of fabric between Reid's teeth and whispered, "I'd bite down on this if I was you. We wouldn't want to disturb any of my other guests, now would we?" Beep..beep..beep… the EKG raced in time with Reid's heart as his body tensed_ _in anticipation of_ _the stimulus. First it was a light twitch, like a shiver in the cold. Then to slightly more uncomfortable; a_ _papercut_ _. And then, finally, the burning pain of thousands of needles being stuck into his body. Pain beat out willpower as Spencer let out a muffled scream._

"Oh Spencer, do I need to get the taser again?" His captor asked menacingly.

Reid flinched involuntarily, his muscles responding to the thought of the unwelcome stimulus. "That won't be necessary," he croaked, "I'm awake."

"Good boy!" His captor responded, patting his cheek condescendingly. "Because you answered me, I'll give you a choice. Will your torment be physical, as it has been for the duration of your time as my guest? Or will it be psychological?" The hair on the back of Reid's neck raised at the slight chuckle of his captor. "I'll give you a minute to decide."

 _Why is he giving me a choice? This doesn't fit with his personality. He's a_ _narcist_ _, he needs_ _to be_ _in control always. The only explanation for this choice is that he wants to weaken my faith in the team. If I choose psychological, he'll shoot me up with some psychedelic and I'll hallucinate about the team. About how they've abandoned me; how they never cared about me. He wants me to give up hope for rescue. But it's hard to lose hope, when there never was faith to begin with. It's impossible to break what has already been broken._ "I choose psychological torture." He said, his voice wavering slightly.

"Excellent," he could all but hear the smugness in the psychopath's voice. "Bring them in!" the man commanded.

Panic coursed through Reid's body, he'd thought his torture would be an individual event, not a group one. "Bring whom in?" he stammered.

"All in good time Spencer," his captor assured him. "All in good time."

The door creaked open, followed by the sound of hushed whispers. Whomever was present in the room was not there out of their own accord, Reid deduced. They were prisoners like him. _This was not good._

"Are you ready Spencer?" His captor asked, removing the blindfold. "It begins now."

Reid opened his eyes to find five people kneeling in front of him, their hands bound with rope. A man so wizened with age it was a miracle he was still alive. Two dark-skinned men, obviously brothers, in the peak of their youth. A girl with large pouty eyes, and deep red lipstick. And most hauntingly of all, a young Hispanic woman at least six months along in her pregnancy. "Why are they here?" Reid asked, dreading the answer.

His captor laughed wickedly, "Because I want you to choose Spencer. Choose who lives and who dies."

Reid tore his eyes away from the mother to be and glared at his captor. "Kill me!" He hissed.

"Not an option Spencer." His captor scolded. "You'll die when, and only when I decide."

"I won't choose." Reid insisted. "You can't make me."

"I can!" His captor retorted. "Choose just one person to die, and everyone else lives. Choose no one, and I kill them all."

"The girl who is going to be a mother," Reid insisted, "she lives!"

"One down, three to go."

"The girl and the two brothers." He added, already feeling the guilt of his choices. "I'm sorry," he said, silently begging the old man to forgive him.

The man gave him a wide, toothless smile. "It is not their time," He said softly, "but I am ready."

Reid held his gaze as one of his captor's goons stepped behind the other prisoner and snapped his neck. Fighting to contain his tears he glared at his captor, "I've chosen. Now let them go!"

"You chose after I gave you an ultimatum." His captor corrected, drawing a pistol from his suit pocket. Before Reid could blink, the man had fired bullets into the heads of the two brothers and the young girl.

"What was that?" Reid cried, straining against his bonds.

"A lesson," the man answered, "I am in charge and this is my game. Do not think that you can beat me at it." He shifted so he was behind the expecting mother, his gun trained on the back of her head.

"Por favor!" she pleaded, her tear-filled eyes locking onto Reid's. "Por favor."

"Stop!" Reid shouted desperately. "Please! I'll do anything you want, just let her live."

"Too late." Blood splattered against Reid as the woman fell to the floor, her eyes unseeing. "Remember Spencer," his captor told him, "You chose this."

 _"Choose!" Charles' voice whispered in his ear. "Choose which of these sinners will die. Only you can make the choice."_

With a mocking laugh his captor closed the door, leaving Reid surrounded by dead bodies and ghosts only he could see.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello everyone! I apologize for the late update, the past few weeks have been hectic. I plan to post updates as soon as they are written, so keep looking. I want to thank everyone for taking the time to read, write, and review; I love hearing what you all think. -Xoxo Elisa**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or its characters.**

Chapter 12

"Agent Hotchner, a word." Hotch looked up, from the third ME report he had been reading, to find Strauss standing in his doorway.

"Yes, ma'am?" he asked.

"I needed to speak with you about, what are you reading?" she demanded, her motives for entering his office completely forgotten. Her eyes narrowed further as she watched Hotch move to sweep the medical report off his desk; "Agent Hotchner, I asked you a direct question. Please answer it."

"The medical report from the examiner over at NCIS." Hotch answered. "His notes were quite thorough, and thought-provoking. Unlike the previous two medical examiners, his search dug up more than the previous two MEs had. The heart sent to Seaver was the same size as the heart of a man around Reid's age and weight, and contained his blood. However, the blood wasn't fresh."

"How could he tell?" Strauss asked, unable to abstain from her curiosity.

"Blood removed from the body will build up lactate over time," Hotch said. "because of the lack of filtration kidneys would provide. The level of lactate present in Reid's blood suggested that the blood had been removed three months ago; Reid could still be alive."

Strauss sighed, "Agent Hotchner, we've talked about this. It's been three weeks, and there is still no quantifiable evidence that Agent Reid is alive. The heart sent to Agent Seaver had his DNA, there have been no videos sent since the heart was delivered, and two highly reputable medical examiners have declared the heart to be his. Agent Reid is dead, Agent Hotchner. The sooner you and your team can come to terms with it, the better."

Hotch's eyes flashed with anger, "Must be nice to have ice running through your veins. Tell me, _ma'am,_ under what circumstances would you ever believe it to be justifiable to tell me that my team needs to get over the death of one of our own? Someone who has been in our lives for so long, we couldn't imagine a day without them? You might see Dr. Reid for only his brain and his contributions to the BAU, but we see him as so much more. Dr. Reid always puts others before himself, no matter what he is dealing with in his own life, he will always sacrifice his own needs to help others. He spent the past six months terrified about his mental state, yet he pushed that aside to ensure that he could give the team his all. He's the first one in the office and the last to leave; not because he needs to be, but because he wants to eliminate the horrors we face every day. Only a truly compassionate soul would be able to handle what Reid sees every day, because once he sees something, he will never be able to unsee it. Did you know that ma'am? That my agent remembers every gruesome detail of the cases we work? One of the many downfalls of an eidetic memory. Or how about the fact, that he was forced to grow up at such a young age. You look at him and see an experienced agent. I look at him and see a twenty-nine-year-old who, in many ways is still a kid. A kid that was bullied every single day, until his second year of the BAU, for being different. A kid that took over as the man of the house at ten years old because his mother was deteriorating and his father was too much of a coward to handle it. A kid who has dedicated most of his life to understanding and finding treatments for the mentally disabled. A kid who, even while being tortured, could empathize with his captor. That is who Dr. Reid is ma'am, so please, enlighten me about why it is so necessary for my team to 'come to terms' with his death."

"Because your team is under investigation, Agent Hotchner!" Strauss snapped.

Hotch blinked, "what? Why? We were cleared by the senate committee a month ago."

"Extenuating circumstances. Your team was very narrowly cleared, and a significant part of that was due to the evidence of a mole in the FBI. Agent O'Malley was murdered in his cell last night, and all evidence of his complicity with Doyle's plans has disappeared. Your team no longer has that safety net to justify your actions, and many of the council members believed your actions were unnecessary and borderline criminal. The chair of the committee, Senator Cramer, has called to subpoena your entire unit for further testimony."

"We told the committee everything!" Hotch protested.

"And they want to hear it again." Strauss retorted, "this time without the evidence of Agent O'Malley's betrayal. They want to ensure that no stones are left unturned; and when, no if, they find the account of your actions are justified will your team be reinstated."

"But that could take weeks." Hotch exclaimed, "weeks we could be using to find the man who took Reid."

"Agent Reid is dead!" Strauss snapped, her professional façade slipping. As much as the team liked to joke that the section chief was made of stone, she truly did care for the agents under her command; Reid was no exception. "He is dead, and nothing you do will bring him back. You can bring the parties responsible to justice, but it won't cause him to walk through those doors. I'm sorry Agent Hotchner, I truly am, but my hands are tied. Your team must attend those hearings, and convince the senate committee that your team's actions were justifiable. Fail to do that, and you risk losing more than your badges." She sighed, "For the time being, the matter of Agent Reid's abduction and murder will be given to Agent Swann's team. They certainly have as much, if not more, invested in this case."

"Is that all ma'am?" Hotch asked, his voice icy.

"Yes," Strauss answered. Taking Hotch's deepening scowl as her cue, she rose and added; "Your first meeting with the senate committee is at 2, try not to be late."

Not even two minutes had passed from Strauss' departure, before Hotch once again had visitors; this time Morgan and Rossi. "What did the ice queen want this time?" Morgan asked.

"To tell me that Reid is dead, and we all need to get over it." Hotch replied morosely.

Morgan and Rossi exchanged a dark glance, "did you show her the report from the examiner at the Navy yard?" Rossi questioned.

"I did," Hotch said, rubbing his eyes, "she said there wasn't enough evidence and we had more pressing matters to attend to."

Morgan's dark eyes narrowed, "such as?"

"Being subpoenaed to give testimony before the senate committee about the Doyle incident."

"But we already did!" Morgan exclaimed. "Hotch, they cleared us! What more could they have to ask?"

"Agent O'Malley was murdered in his cell last night." Hotch answered, ignoring Rossi's derisive snort at the term 'agent'. "And all evidence of his complicity in Doyle's operation has been destroyed. We have nothing to support our need to operate without involving the higher ups. The committee, however, has enough evidence to not only take our badges, but possibly convict us."

"What?" Morgan asked, stunned. "Hotch, surely you can't mean that."

"Morgan, we used government funding to conduct an unauthorized case. Our actions resulted in the murder of ten agents, the kidnapping of a young boy, and a full-fledged fire fight on private property. Other agents have served time for less. We _need_ to convince the committee otherwise, Reid would understand. He wouldn't want us to be arrested because we were more focused on him."

"Of course, he would, he'd expect it even." He was surprised that it was Rossi, not Morgan, with the scathing comment. "Why wouldn't he? You know, I can count on one hand the number of times I've been there for the kid when he's needed it. However, I'd need an infinite number of hands to count the number of occasions he's been there for me, been there for any of us. God forbid we ever put him first. We don't deserve his respect and compassion, and we definitely don't deserve his love."

Hotch could think of no remarks to negate the validity of Rossi's statement except, "Our first meeting with the committee is at 2. Please make sure everyone knows attendance is mandatory, and exactly what is at stake. Morgan, please give what little we have on Reid's abduction to Agent Swann's team. They'll be running point for the time being."

"Hotch," Morgan started, but his superior interrupted him.

"Unless you need something else, I must ask that you return to your offices. I need to sign off on these reports before the hearings. I recommend that you also finish up any case consultations or reports you've been working on; we won't have access to them until the senate clears them."

Without another word, Morgan and Rossi rose to exit the office when a slightly familiar voice called into them. "Ah, gentlemen," Senator Cramer greeted them with a condescending smile. "I trust that I will see you all at the Senate building this afternoon. It will be nice to continue our little chat."

Both Morgan and Rossi opened their mouths to retort, but a quelling glare from Hotch silenced them. "We'll be there." He said, his hawklike glare sharpening. "If you'll excuse us, we have some last-minute paperwork to attend to."

"Of course," Cramer replied, slinking out of the entryway, a smug smile on his face. It was only a matter of time until he received what was promised to him; the very thing that had kept him on Capitol Hill for so long.

 _~07:00; Capital Hill~_

 _Ring, ring. The burner phone hidden in his inside suit buzzed to life. "Cramer," he answered._

 _"_ _Is it done?" a cold voice asked._

 _"_ _Patrick O'Malley was_ _shanked_ _during the afternoon work period." Cramer said, "and all evidence of his partnership with Doyle_ _were wiped_ _from Bureau hard-drives."_

 _"_ _What of the backup copies at the_ _Hotcher_ _,_ _Jareau_ _, and Prentiss households?"_

 _"_ _Undetectable maleware_ _was applied_ _to all devices present; there are no copies except for the ones we have." Cramer reported. "How are things progressing with your guest?" He asked, unable to mask his fascination with his partner's macabre hobbies._

 _"_ _He's broken," his partner said, smugness_ _tinging_ _his voice. "But I can break him further. Poor Spencer, no lifeline to hold_ _onto_ _now that he's separated from his precious team. It won't be long until he shatters into the madness he's been fighting for so long."_

 _"_ _Is it necessary though?" Cramer asked. "You've already broken the boy and convinced him that his 'family' has abandoned him. Wouldn't it be more prudent to simply slit his throat and dispose of the body. The FBI hasn't abandoned the search for you, you know. They've simply passed the task of finding you from Hotchner's team to Swann's team."_

 _"_ _Agent Swann's team is filled with incompetent morons!" the voice snapped angrily, "how else would Ashley Seaver been given a spot?"_

 _"_ _Why are you so fixated on her? On them?" Cramer asked, unable to stop himself._

 _"_ _Why did you fixate so much on how eloquently Agent Reid put you in your place during the hearing?" the voice asked, mockingly. "Why was it so difficult for you to accept the validity of his statement? Because you were in_ _a position of_ _power and he undermined it? Or because your pride wouldn't let you overcome that small slight? My motives are my motives Sebastian, you would do well to not question me. Do not forget who put you in that chair. Tell me, would you be sitting with you are if it had not been for me?" Cramer did not answer. "No," the voice added in satisfaction, "without me you are nothing. As much as you disdain my practices, you cannot deny what they have gotten you. That large office on Capitol Hill, a profit from my successful opiate and human trafficking, the power to put your misguided laws into practice. Do not forget that Sebastian."_


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello all. Finally got chapter 13 typed out, hope you all enjoy! I have also been working on another story, that takes place after the events of 'Elephant's Memory'. The idea came to me in a dream, so I felt the need to start it as well. -Xoxo Elisa**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or its characters.**

Chapter 13

 _Deep brown eyes met his, a mixture of fear and pleading. She had heard him call out, heard him plead for their captor to murder him instead of the other captives, but it had been in vain. A man, with a temperament much like the devil's, could not be reasoned with. Pleading and offering himself as a sacrifice only gave his captor more power, he had learned that much. However, he couldn't bring himself to do nothing, not while such an innocent life hung in the balance. He flinched at the sight of inky purple bruises that wove their way up her arms and her neck, disappearing in her hairline. It was obvious that she had fought hard to not be taken, to protect the unborn child living inside her. 'I'll get you out of here,' he silently told her. 'I promise, I will get you out of here alive; even if it's the last thing I do.'_

 _Her eyes widened slightly, as if she could read his unspoken promise; hope shining in them like a beacon of light in the dismal bunker. Thin trails of moisture tracked their way down her cheeks; a mixture of blood, sweat, and tears. 'I'm gonna put this sadistic bastard's head on a pike,' he thought murderously. 'There are some lines you don't cross, not even if you're Satan himself. Even the Boston Reaper wouldn't stoop this low.'_

 _His captor emitted a dark chuckle, as if Reid had spoken his malevolent thoughts aloud. "A lesson," the man jeered, "I am in charge and this is my game. Do not think that you can beat me at it." He shifted so he was behind the expecting mother, his gun trained on the back of her head._

 _"Por favor!" she pleaded, her tear-filled eyes locking onto Reid's. "Por favor."_

 _"Stop!" Reid shouted desperately. "Please! I'll do anything you want, just let her live."_

 _"Too late." Blood splattered against Reid as the woman fell to the floor, her eyes unseeing. "Remember Spencer," his captor told him, "You chose this."_

" _You're weak, pitiful."_ _Charles' voice snarled in his ear._

 _"I'm not weak."_ _Reid argued._

 _"Why didn't you save me?" Emily's voice asked, appearing before him, her clothes bloody from where Doyle pierced her abdomen with the chair leg. "Why didn't you save us?" she was joined by Ashley and his captor's latest victim; their clothes bloody and eyes unseeing._

 _"You could have saved us, Spencer." They whispered._

 _"I tried_." _He pleaded_. _"I tried so hard to save you. I didn't want you to die."_

 _"We're dead because of you, Spencer." His phantoms whispered. "Our blood is on your hands."_

 _"I'm sorry," he cried, "I'm so so sorry."_

"No!" Reid jolted awake. The thunderous beat of his heart hammered in his ears as his body recovered from the nightmare. Short, gasping breaths escaped his body; creating a disturbance in his ratio of O2 input to CO2 output. ' _Calm down, Spencer!'_ he scolded himself, _'it was just nightmare'_. Only, it wasn't. The young mother-to-be was dead, murdered by a sadistic unsub hellbent on making him wish he could die. Not even twenty-four hours had passed since her demise, and she was already haunting his dreams; like Ashley, like Emily, like all the others he had failed to save. Victims of his limitations, ghosts to haunt him in his hours of unconsciousness. He thought the large dose of dilaudid, that his captor had administered hours ago, might dull some of the guilt, but it only served to trap him in a limitless cycle of self-loathing. The past twenty-four hours had ebbed away the little hope he had held onto through his week in captivity, leaving him with only one hope; that his death would come soon, and that it would be as painless as possible. A selfish wish, perhaps, after all the suffering due to his sins, but he did not believe he could handle any more pain.

"Oh, Spencer. I brought you a present." His captor called, entering his cell.

Dead eyes flickered towards the door, reflecting a soul that had been shattered into submission. Two figures hovered in the doorway: the cause of his suffering and a small figure, almost doll-like next to his captor's bulk, a young girl. Although she could not be any older than eight years old, her eyes echoed the wary intelligence of someone who had been forced to develop before their time. Unlike the previous day's prisoners, she was not bound. Reid assumed his captor to be too narcissistic to believe his prey to insignificant to attempt an escape. However, the stubborn gleam in her deep violet eyes and the obstinate tilt of her chin suggested that she was a fighter. It didn't matter what Reid's captor had planned for her, she would not be a pawn in his game.

"What is this?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from yelling. "Why is she here?"

"I thought you might like the company." The man answered. Turning towards his younger captive he ordered, "Introduce yourself."

She scowled at her captor and then at Reid, but said nothing.

Smack! Their captor's meaty palm struck her cheek, knocking her to the floor. "I said, introduce yourself!" he snarled.

"Siena," the girl muttered, bringing a hand to her stinging cheek, "Siena James."

"Wasn't it enough for you to murder those people in front of me?" Reid demanded. "Why do you need to murder a child as well?"

His captor chuckled, "I won't be the one murdering this time, Spencer, you will."

"What?" Reid asked, his eyes connecting with the child's. All the color had drained from Siena's face, save for the deep red blemish where the man's palm had connected.

The man reached into the inner pocket of his coat, drawing out a large butcher's knife. "I said, you will be the murder. You will take this knife, and you will stab her until the life leaves her body."

"No!" Spencer retorted, shaking. "I can't! You won't be able to force me!"

His captor sighed exasperatedly, "I had a feeling you might say that." His boots creaked ominously on the wood floor as he approached where Spencer was bound.

"What, what are you doing?" Reid asked, his heartrate quickening.

"Persuading you." His captor answered.

Reid's body tensed for the oncoming blow, but neither bat nor fist connected with him. A soft swish filled the air before an intense pain lashed across his back.

"One.." his captor snarled, drawing the whip back for another blow.

Reid bit his lip, desperately trying to hold back the scream of agony building within him.

The whip bit into his back again, "two." His captor counted.

"Close your eyes and cover your ears Siena," Reid implored the young girl. "you don't need to witness this sweetie."

She curled herself into a ball, small hands cupping her ears, and attempted to block out the hiss of the whip. For the first ten lashings, she could pretend that the swish was simply a gust of wind.

However, after the eleventh lashing, Reid could no longer hold back his scream of agony. "Aauughhh." He cried out, tears of pain streaming down his cheeks.

"You can end this Spencer," his captor told him. "Simply ask for the knife."

"No!" Reid hissed, gritting his teeth. His body convulsed as the whip repeatedly bit into his back, inflaming the tender flesh under his ruined shirt.

 _"You're weak!"_ Charles' voice hissed in his ear. _"You will always be weak."_

The whip had struck his back twenty-five times before he cried, "wait!"

The whip hit the floor with a hard thud, as his captor came forward. "Yes?" he asked.

With the little energy remaining in his battered body, Reid raised his head so he could look the man in the eye. "Please give me the knife."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/n: Wow it has been a while since I have posted. My apologies, medical program applications and classes have kept me very busy the past four months. I've been writing in my notebooks, but never found the time to type out my stories. I do believe I should have more time to do so now that I have submitted all my applications, fingers crossed I get in. I would like to thank everyone who has followed, favorited, and commented on Aftermath. It warms my heart to have an outlet for the stories I dream. In regards to the reviews stating that this story seemed to focus on a Reid victim and the team not being able to do anything right; I saw it as a parallel to Captain America: Civil War. I say this because almost everyone who watched the movie either blamed Cap (emotion over logic) or blamed Tony (logic over emotion), instead of seeing that both parties were at fault. It's one of my favorite movies and pushed me into the idea of writing a series of stories that had the constant give and take of emotional versus rational, as well as the fallout when one neglects the other. As always, thank you so much for your continued support and I hope you enjoy reading. I will post as quickly as I can type! -Xoxo Elisa**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or it's characters. This story is solely for the enjoyment of its readers.**

It was as if nothing had changed. The room was still drafty, the seats uncomfortably hard, and Senator Cramer still had that unbearably smug grin on his face. Oh, how Emily would love to wipe that smirk off the bastard's face. She had never liked Cramer. At first, she thought it was simply because he was a politician and the ambassador had long instilled the bias against politicians many years ago, but now, sitting once again before the Senate Review Committee, she realized it was because she recognized herself in him. A fox in the guise of a lynx, a traitor in the form of a revolutionary. While the others would vehemently protest her label of traitor, she could not deny she was; not against her country, but against her belief system. After Doyle, after the hours of debriefing and pats on the shoulder, she promised herself that she would never allow herself to become so entangled in a lie that she emerged unrecognizable in the mirror, yet here she was.

The spy in her could rationalize her actions, could quote multiple bylaws to support the decision to fake her death and keep only JJ and Hotch in the know, but Emily the person couldn't. If her faked death played such a key role in ensuring her safety, then why had she spent countless hours online playing Scrabble with JJ. They hadn't even scrambled the communication frequency when they played; all it would have taken was a more perceptive spy and a telephone and she would have been back in Doyle's clutches. Only she doubted he would leave before finishing the job this time. Looking back on it, from a somewhat unbiased view, she concluded the only difference between staying with the team in protective custody and faking her death was that she had managed to alienate almost everyone she cared about in the process. And because of that alienation, because of that rift slowly breaking the team apart, it had caused a disaster of nuclear proportions: Ashley being shot, Reid taken and tortured, the whole team put on indefinite suspension; all because of her.

 _"Maybe it would have been better if I had just stayed dead,"_ she thought bitterly. _"The dead don't bother anyone with their lies."_

 _"So you're just going to abandon us?"_ A voice suspiciously like Reid's asked her. _"You're going to walk away from the closest thing you've ever had to a family?"_

 _"Our family's broken. All we do is go at each other's throats these days."_ She responded. _"Why do you care anyway? You're gone."_

 _"Maybe I'm not."_ She swore she could hear that faint Reid smile in his next words. _"Fix this Emily, bring me back!"_

"Agent Prentiss. Agent Prentiss are you still with us?" The no-nonsense voice of the committee proctor jarred her from her reverie.

"Sorry, what was the question?" she asked, cheeks tinged with an embarrassed flush.

Senator Cramer smirked at her before turning to his colleagues as if to say, ' _didn't I tell you this would happen?'._ "Agent Prentiss," he said, condescension coating every syllable of the word 'agent'; "not four weeks ago you told us that your team's methods, while unconventional and radical, were the only way to rid the world of Ian Doyle. We entertained this farce because of the ten boxes of transcribed wire-taps regarding one Patrick O'Malley, an alleged lieutenant in Doyle's operation and a member of the Quantico branch of the FBI. However, what is missing is the supplemental video and audio recordings to prove O'Malley wasn't only set up as the much-needed fall guy. And now, when your actions are truly questioned, you don't have them! So, _Emily,_ what do you have to say for yourself?"

Emily sat stunned, _how had Cramer known the audio and video was gone? That was knowledge only discussed within the BAU, not even Agent Swann's team knew._ "I..I..I.." she stuttered, the revelation hanging on her tongue like lead.

"Hwee, hwoo!" A sharp whistle echoed from behind her. Prentiss turned to find a very anxious and pissed off looking Garcia teetering toward her on six-inch heels, a cumbersome box in her hands.

"Not exactly a good time Penn." Prentiss whispered as the tech-analyst reached her table.

Garcia regarded her carefully before asking, "So you'd prefer I walk out with the box of evidence to save your ass? Because I can turn right around and march out that door?"  
"What evidence?" she hissed.

The blonde only gave her a saucy wink before turning towards the review board. "Senator Cramer," she said, addressing the grey-haired annoyance. "You said that the only reason our team was pardoned was due to the overwhelming evidence against Patrick O'Malley, a man that successfully infiltrated the FBI and could have easily lead Doyle to Agent Prentiss if not for the work of Agents Hotchner and Jarreau. You have _multiple_ copies of that evidence in front of you yet, as you so _rudely_ told Agent Prentiss, you don't have the audio and video surveillance. You want it? Well, guess what? It's all in this box!" Pausing to take a breath after the lightening-fast rant, Garcia dumped the box's contents in Cramer's lap.

"Ms. Garcia," he warned.

"Oh, I'm not done!" Garcia insisted before sweetly saying, "now why don't you play with those nasty little videos while the adults talk?"

Cramer flushed a beet-red, rendered speechless by the one and only Penelope Garcia.

"Senators of the Review Board, I present all hard-copies of the wire tap on Patrick O'Malley; proving he was in cahoots with Ian Doyle! Therefore, my team remains innocent of everything Senator Cramer has accused us of. But, we aren't done here. You see, as soon as this little witch hunt started, I had some questions about the quote unquote _honorable_ senator's motives. As Senator Cramer himself stated, you had four weeks to upturn your sentence, to review the transcriptions and to ask for the hard-copies. _Four weeks!_ Of which you solely sat on your hands and did nothing. So why now? Why question the team and dig up all this unnecessary drama for a team that has repeatedly been tested through a trial by fire? What could you possibly have to gain by this? The answer is _nothing!_ Not unless you had ulterior motives, like Senator Cramer here. Did anyone else notice how Senator Cramer knew that, the one piece of evidence the team needed to absolve them of all guilt, wasn't in our possession? Now, how could he possibly know that? The other senators didn't know that, the higher-ups of the FBI didn't know that, no one outside the BAU knew that; but he did. He could say that one of the team told him or that he had overheard JJ and Hotch talking about it; it would be a perfectly acceptable answer, but it wouldn't be true. No, the reason Senator Cramer knew was because he was the one who stole the files. "

Murmurs of disquiet rippled throughout the room, but they did nothing to threaten Garcia's resolve. "I know it's a serious accusation," she said "and I wouldn't make it if I didn't have ample evidence to back it. So," she pulled out three identical flash drives, "here are the back traces of myself, Kevin Lynch, and Jordan Dudley; stemming from the house computers of Agents Hotchner and Jarreau and ending at the private office of Senator Doyle." To add an even greater slap to the situation she added, "maybe next time you should hire a hacker than doesn't leave so many breadcrumbs."

Cramer glared at her with a burning hatred as the court guards approached him, "we'll need you to come with us sir."

"Of course," Cramer answered, the picture of decorum. It wasn't until they reached the exit that he turned and shouted, "It doesn't matter! I was simply a means to disrupt your progress, to inhibit you with all means I had. You're too late! Poor, poor Dr. Reid; his beautiful mind either dead or shattered beyond repair. Your precious Spencer is gone!"


	15. Chapter 15

**A/n: Hello everyone! I told you I'd be updating as soon as things were typed out. Chapter 15 was wonderful to write if only because Garcia so rarely gets to completely shut an unsub down, and Chapter 16 only got better. I toyed with multiple different paths when I first wrote this, and I do believe the final product delivers. My goal was to write this so the reader is enveloped in the emotion and the conversation. Now it's up to you and your wonderful imaginations to guess what the conversation sounds like on the other line. All of my love. -Xoxo Elisa**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or its characters.**

Chapter 16

"Agent Swann. Wait, what? What do you mean Cramer was in on it, Hotchner? What do you mean Dr. Reid might still be alive? Cramer said what? No Hotchner, he's just trying to play mind games with you. How am I so sure? Because this unsub's a sadistic asshole, and there's no way he'd let Reid die so quickly. Yes, I know it's been three weeks. Yes, I know that the unsub's a narcissist and wants to gloat about his victory over the pride of the FBI. Yes, it doesn't make sense to only taunt the team for a short while before sending undisputed evidence of death. Yes, I know what the profile is. But what you fail to realize Agent Hotchner is that the profile only applies to the team. What do you mean what do I mean? C'mon Aaron, rub those brain cells together for a minute. Your team has managed to piss off every unsub and probably every family of the unsubs you've gone against. Probably more than any other team in the FBI. Why? Because you're that good at your job! Now, let's take a minute to reflect. If you were out to get revenge on your team, who would you go after? I am being serious Aaron. Yes, this is completely hypothetical. What do you mean you can't do it? The reason your team is so successful is because of your ability to operate within the mind of your unsubs. You know what, fine I'll do it!"

"So, let's say that I'm an unsub your team has pissed off and I want to enact revenge. Do I go after you or Morgan? You're right that I wouldn't, you both look like you'd kill any unsub that attempted to target you. Stop it Aaron, Foyet was the exception not the rule. It would take pure luck to get the jump on you or Morgan. I'm not going to argue with you about this Aaron, let's move on. Would I target Emily or JJ? Possibly, but we both know that the BAU doesn't let anyone in that can't hold their own. Will you let me finish Aaron, or are you going to keep interrupting me? No? I didn't think so. Moving on, that leaves me with three possible soft targets: Garcia, Reid, and Rossi; all in the BAU under extraordinary circumstances. You are more than welcome to tell Dave I said that! You can also tell him that, if he wants to act like an agent in his prime, maybe he should cut down on the pasta and wine. Yes, you are right, it would be difficult to get the jump on an agent with over thirty years' experience. And then there's Garcia. Yes, she has no self-defense training and scares easily. But few unsubs have met her, making her a less-likely choice. That leaves us with Reid: young, not physically imposing, more of brain than brawn."

"An easy target, especially for those adept in reading body language. For a team of profilers, your team struggles to hide its overprotectiveness towards your youngest member. I know you're more of a family than a team and are extremely affectionate towards one another, but it's easily exploited. I mean, the whole debacle with Prentiss was because Doyle threatened the team, and Foyet attacked Morgan as a message to you. No, I'm not saying that loving your team is a crutch. I'm just trying to tell you that it makes you liable, especially when all those feelings gravitate towards a single individual. Spencer's an adult Aaron, he can take care of himself. If he hadn't been able to, he wouldn't have survived to adulthood. Yes, I do know about his mother. It was one of the first things Ashley told me. No, that's not an invasion of his privacy. How? Because she had picked up on his head trauma when none of you did. Who do you think he was going to ask to drive him when he was physically unable? And whose boss do you think needed to know why one of their agents was disappearing when they returned to the office? Exactly."

"Now, returning to our scenario. We've chosen a victim and we've taken him. What are our next steps? Yes, we would take him to a secure location. No, we wouldn't kill him if he managed to escape. We might drug him, we might injure him, but we wouldn't kill him. Why? It wouldn't meet our purposes. If we were trying to get a reaction from the team, we'd send them multiple videos of their 'baby's' torture. We'd want you all to feel utterly helpless as Reid cried out in pain, kind of like that stunt that Tobias Hankel pulled. Yes, I do know about that. No, there isn't much I don't know when it comes to Spencer. No, Ashley didn't tell me that; Spencer did. Yes, I'm serious. Yes, I am aware of what could have happened if that had gotten out to the higher-ups. No, I don't know when he became so reckless. But think for a minute about the Hankel analogy. The personality of Tobias Hankel's father saw you all as a threat to his crusade against 'sinners', and wanted to prove that you were helpless against him. He had Spencer at his mercy for almost forty-eight hours, and spent a good chunk of it taunting you with his torture. He wanted you to see everything Spencer was subject to because you hadn't figured out Hankel's pattern. He wanted you to watch as he beat Spencer bloody, so you'd know how powerless you were against him. If this asshole was acting against the team he'd keep sending videos of Reid being tortured, but he didn't. Instead, he sent a few videos and then a human heart. It doesn't make sense for him to do that if the team is the target! He lords over the power he has, he wouldn't take away his control on your emotions. No, in his mind his control only increases with each video he sends. He knows that a dead Reid leads to grief and then acceptance, but an alive Reid only prolongs the emotional manipulation."

"So Reid must be the target. And, because he is on such negative terms with the team, the unsub can't do what Ian Doyle did. They need to attack Spencer on all fronts: physical, emotional, and psychological; and I'll be damned that their methods were effective. First, they shoot Ashley in front of him. An already emotional situation further augmented by the fact she took a bullet protecting him. Then they beat him, leaving him in a state of unwavering pain. The first video gives him hope though, he hears them speak to you and assumes you'll be looking for him; that you'll come save him. Even an injection can't deter him from that hope; he knows he's gotten clean before and can do so again. But then days pass, and eventually weeks. That hope begins to waver, and the beatings continue. He doesn't know about the heart you've been sent; only that you haven't come for him, that maybe you've abandoned him. He'll think of ways to escape, but between the inevitable drugs and bonds he'll be unable to. Between the drugs, the guilt and the hopelessness it's enough to drive anyone insane, we just need to hope we find him before he reaches that point. How do I know he hasn't already reached that point? I don't, but from all that Ashley's told me Spencer's terrified of losing his mind; he'll fight to protect it at any cost. How likely do you think Cramer is to crack? That likely, huh? Maybe you should let Morgan have an hour with him? That might loosen his tongue. Or his jaw. Honestly either works for me. Will do Aaron, call when you have something."

A weary sigh escaped Agent Swann's lips as she ended the call. _So Spencer was alive, Ashley will be so happy. But how do we find him? Cramer is the only breadcrumb we have, and he's unlikely to give us anything quickly. Time is of the essence though. There's no telling how much longer Spencer can hold out, and he needs to. This unsub knows so many intimate details about him, and is using that knowledge as a battering ram against him. They want his mind to dissolve into insanity before they put a bullet into him. Or maybe they'll release him. Would they? It's so difficult to predict._

"Boss!" Michaels called to her, "you have a phone call."

"Pertaining to?" Swann asked.

"The child trafficking case we've been dealing with for the past five years. You know, the one involving the foster care runaways."

"I am well-aware of the details, Michaels." She sighed, "I'm assuming they found another body?"

A hint of a smile danced across her subordinate's features, "a survivor."

Swann bolted out of her chair. "Where?" she demanded.

"Breakneck hill." Michaels answered. "A group of hikers found her sprinting barefoot towards the highway."

"Breakneck hill, that's three hours from here. If we leave now, we can get there by 4 and then swing over to help Agent Hotchner with his interrogation."

"They found something about Reid?" Michaels asked.

"A scumbag of a senator." Swann answered, grabbing her gun.

"But isn't every senator a scumbag?" Michaels quipped.

"You're a real comedian Ed." Swann said dryly. "Why don't you tell me the name of our survivor?"

"Siena. Siena James."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/n: And here is another chapter. A chance for everyone to meet Siena since she will play a crucial role in the endgame of Aftermath, as well as Redemption. Hopefully she'll tug on your heartstrings as much as she tugged on mine.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or its characters.**

~Rush, Maryland 15:46~

"What do we know?" Swann asked as they pulled into the parking lot of the Allegany County Police Station.

"Siena James: age ten, born in Palermo, Sicily, daughter of Richard James and Natalia Marino -two geochemists on academic visa from American University to study the volcanic eruptions of Mount Stromboli. That all ended when they went to study the 2007 eruption and their jeep slid off the road; Siena was only six at the time. The only remaining family she had was her paternal grandmother, but health issues forced Mrs. James to leave Siena in the care of the system. Bilingual, IQ of 146, and a penchant for mischief; she's been bouncing from foster homes ever since. She had just run away from her third foster home of the month when she disappeared, took the family three weeks to report her missing."

"Why that long?" Swann questioned.

"The mother was dealing meth on the side and didn't want anyone poking around."

"What lovely examples these 'parents' set for the children in their care," Michaels muttered sarcastically. "Where ever do they find them?"

"Unfortunately, that's how the system works." Swann answered. "Any word as to why Siena kept running away?"

"Social workers originally thought she was trying to get back to her grandmother, then they realized the grandmother had been dead for over a year. It also didn't help that Siena preferred Italian over English, and was beaten in multiple homes for not speaking English."

"That poor girl." Callahan whispered. "So how are we approaching this?"

"I think you'll be our best bet, Callahan. You're married, have a child, and have dealt with severe loss. You'll probably be able to connect to Siena better than all of us."

The young agent regarded her carefully before answering, "I'll do my best boss."

They had barely made it past the threshold of the station when two frazzled officers accosted them. "Are you the FBI?" one asked.

"Yes," Swann answered carefully, "I'm Agent Swann. Behind me are Agents Jamerson, Michaels, and Callahan. You called regarding our child trafficking case?"

"Yes, I'm Lieutenant Ripley. My team was the first response to the call. We attempted to bring Siena to the hospital, so they could check her over for injuries, but she insisted we come here. She said she needed to speak with the FBI, that it was a matter of life or death and that she wouldn't be safe in a hospital."

"We came as quickly as we could, how is she?" Swann asked.

Ripley's eyes flickered nervously, "she was fine for the first half hour, but then something set her off. I can only imagine the hell this girl's been through, and obviously something's triggered her. She's been pacing in our conference room, and crying in Italian. We haven't been able to revert her back to English."

"Most likely a coping mechanism," Swann muttered. "Damn, we should have grabbed Rossi on our way."

"What if we skype him during the interview?" Callahan asked, "that way he can translate."  
Swann gave her young protégé an approving nod. "No wonder every branch of the FBI wants to steal you from me, Callahan." Turning to the lieutenant she asked, "Would it be possible for you to set up skype in the conference room?"

"Absolutely, I'll put my men on it right away."

Swann waited until Ripley left before addressing her team. "Michaels and Jamerson, head to Breakneck Hill and canvas everything within a half-mile radius. I have a feeling Siena ran further than that, but it won't hurt. Callahan, you and I will go see if we can calm Siena down before we get a hold of Rossi. The poor thing must be terrified out of her mind."

"On it boss!" Michaels saluted before clapping Jamerson on the shoulder, "we'll call if we find anything."

"Are you ready?" Callahan asked.

"The day I'm ready for my least favorite part of the job will be the day I retire." She said dryly. "Let's go see how Siena is coping."

Swann's first impression of the conference room was dark and sparse; a room that obviously wasn't meant for comfort, furnished only with a circular table and hard-backed folding chairs. A secondary scan of the room told her it hadn't been so dark before she and Callahan entered. One of the chairs lay on its side and the window shade flapped as if it had been quickly pulled down; almost like an intrusion drill for a primary school. Apparently Siena was leery towards the idea of new visitors. "Siena," she softly called, "My name is Andi, and this is Kate. We aren't here to hurt you. We just want to talk. You don't need to answer any questions if you don't want to."

A small, olive head peeked out from behind the furthest chair. "Mostrami il tuo id!" Its owner demanded.

Swann glanced at Callahan in confusion, overcoming the language barrier was not going to be easy.

"I think she's asking to see our badges." Callahan guessed throwing her id towards the chair, "Siena, we're from the FBI. You asked to see us, right?"

"Si," a small voice answered as the badge was tossed back to Callahan.

"Thank you," Callahan said scooping up her id. "Siena, is it alright if we turn the light on? Just so we can see a bit better?"

"Si, ma non è colpa mia se non ti piace quello che vedi."

"Was that a yes?" Swann asked.

"I think so," Callahan responded, flipping the light switch. The two agents were greeted by the harsh illumination of fluorescent light bulbs, and a truly disturbing sight. A child stood in front of them, beautiful but with the tell-tale signs of heavy abuse. Large, splotchy bruises, ranging from the deep purple of a new bruise to the faded yellow of a healing one adorned greater than sixty percent of the visible skin. Angry red scratches were woven across the girl's arms and neck, and twigs and leaves adorned coarse ash brown curls. What had clearly been jeans and a thermal top was torn to ribbons, enunciating the sickeningly slim frame. Between her lack of height and the obvious signs of malnourishment, it would have been easy to mistakenly guess the child to be younger than her birth certificate suggested; if not for the eyes. Framed by the beginnings of a black eye, the deep violet orbs stared at her with such a wary distrust that Callahan could not help but feel guilt for not finding Siena earlier.

"Hai intenzione di aiutarmi, o hai solo intenzione di fissare e guardare tutto il giorno?" Siena asked irritably.

Callahan flushed with embarrassment. Although she had no idea what Siena had said, the tone of her message was obvious: "Let's go already."  
"Is Rossi answering?" she asked her boss.

"Skyping him right now," Swann answered. "Siena we're going to skype with one of our colleagues, so he can translate for us. Unfortunately, neither Kate or I speak Italian."

"Il bilinguismo è un tratto importante." Siena said primly.

Both Swan and Callahan stared at her incredulously before laughing. "Are all Italians such smart asses?" Kate joked.

"Solo quando si tratta di incivili!" Siena retorted.

An irritated "what?" prevented the two agents from responding to the sassy ten-year-old.

"Hey Rossi." Swann greeted.

The Italian veteran regarded her before snarling, "This had better be good. I got pulled out of grilling Cramer for this, and I was so close to making him cry."

Swann chuckled, "as entertaining as that sounds, we need your help." She beckoned for Siena to come sit next to her, and was astonished by the change in the girl's attitude. The feisty firecracker persona had been replaced by thinly-veiled fear and distrust. Whatever Siena had been through had made her incredibly leery of men, especially authority figures. Giving the girl a warm smile she said, "Siena, this is David. He's going to translate for you, so we can get some answers. Is that alright?"

A jerky nod and a "Ciao David," was the only response she received.

Rossi's bushy eyebrows rose fractionally before he bluntly asked, "what the hell happened to her face?"

"Siena is a part of-."

"Non gli piaceva il fatto che ho combattuto. È un problema?" And the feisty personality was back.

"No, ero solo curioso," Rossi retorted. "Puoi dirmi cosa è successo?"

"Non potevo restare nella casa adottiva. Stavano vendendo droga e ci picchiavano tutte le possibilità che avevano. Poi uno dei loro acquirenti ha chiesto se volevano commerciare in più di barbituates; se volessero commerciare in carne. Hanno detto che lo considererebbero per il giusto prezzo e gli hanno dato alcuni dei miei amici come mestiere. Ha detto che sarebbe tornato per me la sera dopo, sapevo che non potevo rimanere. Ho aspettato che fossero troppo alti per preoccuparsi e sono scivolati fuori dalla porta sul retro. L'avevo fatto a Cleveland prima che mi trovasse. Disse alla gente del ristorante che era un assistente sociale. Non importava quanto io gridassi; non hanno fatto niente Sono stato messo su questo treno con una quarantina di altri bambini e ci ha fatto combattere ogni notte per cibo e acqua. Se hai rifiutato, ne sei stato un esempio fino a quando non l'hai fatto."

"Perché non hai contrattaccato?" Rossi interrupted.

"Una volta che il gioco è finito, il re e il pedone tornano nella stessa scatola." Siena said primly, "Combattere sarebbe stato giocare il suo gioco."

"E quante percosse ti hanno guadagnato?" Rossi asked.

"Basta proteggere gli altri e rendere la sua vita un inferno vivente."

"Non sei un po 'giovane per usare quel tipo di linguaggio?"

"Non sei un po 'vecchio per litigare con un bambino di dieci anni?" Siena asked, a delicate eyebrow raised.

"Si," Rossi chuckled. "Perché è stato così importante per te proteggere gli altri?"

"Perché nessun altro lo farebbe, perché prima ero impotente e l'ho odiato!" Siena cried, tears streaking her cheeks. "Sai cosa vuol dire guardare qualcuno che ami morire davanti a te e non avere il potere di salvarli? troppo debole per impedire la loro morte? Perché io ho, e non c'è un giorno in cui non ho chiesto a Dio perché non mi ha lasciato morire quel giorno."

Rossi frowned, "Chi hai visto morire?"

"I miei genitori. Erano così presi da quello che i livelli sismici di quel dannato vulcano potevano significare che non vedevano la spaccatura nella strada. Gli ho urlato, ma papà non ha potuto fermarsi in tempo. La mamma ha appena avuto il tempo di buttarmi fuori dalla finestra prima che la loro macchina finisse. Ho corso più veloce che potevo per ottenere aiuto, ma erano morti! Erano morti perché non correvamo abbastanza in fretta, e tutto ciò che mi è rimasto è che mi hanno detto quanto mi amavano! Non potrei salvarli, ma sarò dannato se lascerò che qualcun altro muoia di fronte a me! " Sobs racked Siena's thin shoulders, causing the hearts of all those in vicinity to break.

"Rossi, what the hell just happened?" Swann demanded as Callahan tried to sooth the troubled girl.

"Did you know why Siena was in foster care?" Rossi asked.

Swann frowned, "yes, her parents died in a car accident when she was six. Why?"

"I think the reports neglected to add that she was in the car with them when it happened."

"What?"

"Apparently her mother threw her out of the car as it went off the road. She ran to get help, but her parents were already dead. I think she's been carrying the guilt ever since."

"And now she's been through even more trauma," Swann muttered. "It's a miracle she can even talk with us."

"I don't think that's going to continue." Rossi said regretfully, "she looks like she might be on the verge of an episode, and I don't want to push her any further. I think we might need to call it quits for now."

"No," Siena shouted. "Devi ascoltare!"

"Siena, honey, I know you're upset and want to help but we can continue when you're feeling better." Callahan said soothingly.

"No, dobbiamo andare avanti. Gli ho promesso che avrei detto all'FBI che era lì!" Siena cried.

"Who?" Rossi demanded. "Siena, chi hai promesso?"

"L'uomo," she cried. "L'uomo che era incatenato al pavimento. L'uomo mascherato aveva bisogno di qualcosa per rompere il suo spirito, e lo avevo infastidito abbastanza da essere attraente per quello scopo. Ci aveva tenuti tutti in gabbia e prendeva piccoli gruppi alla volta per i combattimenti in gabbia. È ironico, come ho sempre desiderato un cane, ma non avrei mai pensato di guardare i miei amici prima di dover combattere come me. Ogni notte avrebbe fatto in modo che tutti tranne me combattevano per l'intrattenimento. Se hai vinto, hai più cibo e letti migliori. Ma se hai perso ... Se hai perso, hai un proiettile. Potevo sentirli dalla mia gabbia, piangere, chiedere l'elemosina per la loro vita, la _misericordia_. Ma non l'hanno mai ricevuto. Posso ancora sentire lo sparo e il tonfo dei corpi ogni volta che chiudo gli occhi. Ciò che era ancora più ironico era quanto io abbia lottato duramente per proteggere i miei amici, solo per sentirli essere massacrati come animali. Non è stato fino a quando siamo rimasti in undici che ha fermato i combattimenti. Ha detto che aveva bisogno di vendere questo lotto per fare spazio al prossimo. Ho visto i personaggi più schizzinosi colpire e pungolare i miei amici come carne prima di offrire un'offerta. Molti sembravano che mi volessero, ma ero fuori dai limiti. Il _premio_ mascherato dell'uomo per rompere un'anima veramente morale. Disse ai compratori di bruciare i corpi o di portarli oltre il confine, come avrebbe fatto con me."

"How did you get away?" Callahan whispered.

Siena smirked, "L'uomo mascherato era arrogante. Pensava che le mie dimensioni significassero che non sarei una minaccia per i suoi piani. Non mi teneva legato come gli altri una volta che furono venduti; pensava che le costole rotte avrebbero inibito qualsiasi piano di fuga."

"Quante costole sono rotte?" Rossi asked in concern.

"Cinque, penso." The young girl gave a slight shrug, "È difficile dirlo, non ne ho mai rotto uno prima."

"Why didn't the police bring you to the hospital?" Callahan demanded.

"Ci hanno provato, ma ho detto loro che sarei scappato se l'avessero fatto. Non sarei al sicuro in un ospedale, e avevo bisogno di parlare con l'FBI." Siena answered. "Posso continuare, per favore?"

"Only if you agree to see a medic after." Swann retorted.

"Si, si," violet eyes rolled impatiently. "Ad ogni modo, mi ha trascinato in questo bunker di cemento in cima alla montagna. All'inizio ho pensato che fosse la cabina di un ranger, ma mi sono reso conto di quanto lontano dalla pista fosse quando ho corso. Abbiamo superato tre stanze piene di armi prima di raggiungere il centro del bunker. Mentre le altre stanze avevano solo una guardia, questa aveva almeno sei. Continuavano a fare questi strani commenti e chiedevano se potevano avermi una volta che il capo era finito. Non mi piaceva quanto mi facessero sentire i loro occhi sporchi. Mi spinse nella stanza e vidi un uomo picchiato e insanguinato al centro. Le sue braccia erano incatenate sopra di lui e, quando mi guardò, potei vedere quanto fosse rotto. I suoi occhi erano così morti, era come se la sua anima fosse fuggita dal suo corpo. Ha chiesto se sarebbe stato testimone di un altro omicidio, come se sapesse quanto l'uomo mascherato bramasse la morte. L'uomo mascherato rise e gli disse che sarebbe stato l'assassino per un cambiamento. Che aveva bisogno di pugnalarmi fino a quando ero morto; se non l'avesse fatto, sarebbe stato frustato. Ero convinto che avrebbe chiesto il coltello, ma abbiamo stabilito un contatto visivo e sembrava che mi stesse implorando di fidarmi di lui. Mi ha detto di voltarmi e coprirmi le orecchie, che non avevo bisogno di assistere a quello che sarebbe successo. Perfino con le mie mani che coprono le mie orecchie potrei ancora sentire tutto; la fessura della frusta, lo sfrigolio della sua carne sbrindellata ogni volta che la corda entrava in contatto. Mi sembrarono ore prima che lui chiedesse il coltello. Ero convinto di essere stato un pazzo a fidarmi di lui, soprattutto perché l'uomo mascherato era così allegro. Potevi sentire l'orgoglio nella sua voce quando diceva "buona scelta", come se stesse lodando l'uomo incatenato per un risultato significativo. L'uomo incatenato chiese di essere liberato, ma gli fu chiesto se pensava che l'uomo mascherato fosse un idiota. L'uomo incatenato disse: "No, ma hai intenzione di tenerla a posto mentre la accarezzo con le mie braccia tese sopra la mia testa?" L'uomo mascherato lo sganciò dal soffitto, ma tenne le sue catene incatenate. Mi ha afferrato per la maglietta e mi ha tirato da lui. Ho provato a combattere, ma mi ha rapidamente bloccato a terra. Mi ha detto di urlare e poi ha affettato il palmo della mano mentre abbassava il coltello; poi mi mise la mano sulla bocca come se mi stesse soffocando. Ho preso a calci le gambe come se fossi in difficoltà a liberarmi mentre mi diceva di correre non appena ho visto una finestra. Mi ha detto di non preoccuparmi per lui e di continuare a correre finché non ho trovato un agente di polizia. "Annuisci se capisci," sibilò prima di lanciarsi contro l'uomo mascherato e pugnalarlo alla coscia. Le guardie si sono affrettate ad aiutare il loro capo, e ho colto l'occasione. Ero quasi fuori dalla porta quando lo sentii gridare: "Corri a Siena! Corri a dire all'FBI che Spencer Reid ti ha mandato! Ti aiuteranno"."

"Oh my gosh," Callahan murmured, but Siena was not yet finished.

"L'ho raggiunto fino alla seconda porta quando una delle guardie mi ha afferrato. Ha alzato la pistola come se stesse per spararmi, ma poi si è fermato. Ha sparato ai suoi compagni e mi ha detto di scappare. Non so perché, ma ha deciso di lasciarmi andare. Corsi, correvo così forte perché li sentivo dietro di me. I rami mi graffiavano la faccia e le braccia, ma non potevo usare la strada di servizio. Quello sarebbe il primo percorso che avrebbero seguito. Non ero sicuro che avessero cani, così ho nuotato giù per uno dei ruscelli di montagna per nascondere il mio odore, e ho continuato a cambiare direzione. Non sapevo nemmeno di averlo fatto giù per la montagna finché non avessi visto la strada." She glanced up tearfully, "Ho lasciato Spencer a morire."

Callahan hugged the grief-stricken girl, "No, Siena listen to me. You did exactly what you were supposed to do. If you had stayed, you would most likely be dead. Reid knew you were his best chance at getting help."

"She's right," Swann said before asking Rossi, "how quickly can your team get here?"

The older agent frowned in contemplation, "Two hours maybe, if we take a chopper."

"Reid might not have that much time." Turning to Callahan she said, "Kate call Michaels and Jamerson. Tell them to reach out to every police, state, and ranger squadron within a thirty-mile radius. You'll stay here with Siena while we siege the mountain, the BAU will provide emergency support."

"What?" Callahan and Rossi exclaimed at the same time.

"Boss, I want to help you." Callahan argued.

"You are helping me, Callahan." Swann answered, "Spencer risked a lot to protect Siena, and I do not want her out of your sight. Please bring her to the hospital and get her the medical assistance she desperately needs."

"Rossi, before you even open your mouth to argue with me, remember that we agreed time was of the essence. My team, as well as supplemental forces, is on-site and ready to go. Make your amends with Reid after we bring him home."

 **All translations from Italian to English:**

 **mostrami il tuo id- show me your id**

 **sì- yes**

 **si, ma non è colpa mia se non ti piace quello che vedi.- yes, but it is not my fault if you don't like what you see.**

 **hai intenzione di aiutarmi, o hai solo intenzione di fissare e guardare tutto il giorno- are you going to help me, or are you just going to stare and gawk all day**

 **il bilinguismo è un tratto importante- bilingualism is an important trait**

 **solo quando si tratta di incivili- only when dealing with the uncivilized**

 **Ciao David- Hello David**

 **Non gli piaceva il fatto che ho combattuto. È un problema?"- They didn't like the fact I fought back. Is that a problem?"**

 **No, ero solo curioso- No, I was just curious**

 **Puoi dirmi cosa è successo- Can you tell me what happened**

 **Non potevo restare nella casa adottiva. Stavano vendendo droga e ci picchiavano tutte le possibilità che avevano. Poi uno dei loro acquirenti ha chiesto se volevano commerciare in più di barbituates; se volessero commerciare in carne. Hanno detto che lo considererebbero per il giusto prezzo e gli hanno dato alcuni dei miei amici come mestiere. Ha detto che sarebbe tornato per me la sera dopo, sapevo che non potevo rimanere. Ho aspettato che fossero troppo alti per preoccuparsi e sono scivolati fuori dalla porta sul retro. L'avevo fatto a Cleveland prima che mi trovasse. Disse alla gente del ristorante che era un assistente sociale. Non importava quanto io gridassi; non hanno fatto niente Sono stato messo su questo treno con una quarantina di altri bambini e ci ha fatto combattere ogni notte per cibo e acqua. Se hai rifiutato, ne sei stato un esempio fino a quando non l'hai fatto.- I couldn't stay at the foster home. They were selling drugs and beating us every chance they got. Then one of their buyers asked if they wanted to trade in more than barbituates; if they wanted to trade in flesh. They said they'd consider it for the right price, and gave him some of my friends as a trade. He said he'd be back for me the next night, I knew I couldn't stay. I waited until they were too high to care and slipped out the backdoor. I'd made it to Cleveland before he found me. He told the people in the diner that he was a social worker. It didn't matter how hard I screamed; they did nothing. I was put on this train with about forty other children and he made us fight every night for food and water. If you refused you were made an example of until you did.**

 **Perché non hai contrattaccato?- Why didn't you fight back?**

 **Una volta che il gioco è finito, il re e il pedone tornano nella stessa scatola.- Once the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box.**

 **Combattere sarebbe stato giocare il suo gioco- To fight would have been to play his game**

 **E quante percosse ti hanno guadagnato?- And how many beatings did that earn you?**

 **Basta proteggere gli altri e rendere la sua vita un inferno vivente.- Enough to protect the others, and make his life a living hell.**

 **Non sei un po 'giovane per usare quel tipo di linguaggio?- Aren't you a little young to be using that kind of language?**

 **Non sei un po 'vecchio per litigare con un bambino di dieci anni?- Aren't you a bit old to be arguing with a ten-year-old?**

 **Perché è stato così importante per te proteggere gli altri?- Why was it so important for you to protect the others?"**

 **Perché nessun altro lo farebbe, perché prima ero impotente e l'ho odiato! Sai cosa vuol dire guardare qualcuno che ami morire davanti a te e non avere il potere di salvarli? troppo debole per impedire la loro morte? Perché io ho, e non c'è un giorno in cui non ho chiesto a Dio perché non mi ha lasciato morire quel giorno.- Because no one else would. Because I've been helpless before and I hated it! Do you know what it's like to watch someone you love die in front of you, and be powerless to save them? To always blame yourself because you were too weak to prevent their deaths? Because I have, and there isn't a day where I haven't asked God why he didn't let me die that day.**

 **Chi hai visto morire?- Who did you watch die?**

 **I miei genitori. Erano così presi da quello che i livelli sismici di quel dannato vulcano potevano significare che non vedevano la spaccatura nella strada. Gli ho urlato, ma papà non ha potuto fermarsi in tempo. La mamma ha appena avuto il tempo di buttarmi fuori dalla finestra prima che la loro macchina finisse. Ho corso più veloce che potevo per ottenere aiuto, ma erano morti! Erano morti perché non correvamo abbastanza in fretta, e tutto ciò che mi è rimasto è che mi hanno detto quanto mi amavano! Non potrei salvarli, ma sarò dannato se lascerò che qualcun altro muoia di fronte a me!- My parents. They were so caught up in what the seismic levels of that damn volcano could mean that they didn't see the split in the road. I screamed to him, but Daddy couldn't stop in time. Mama barely had time to throw me out the window before their car went over. I ran as fast I could to get help, but they were dead! They were dead because I didn't run fast enough, and all I have left is them telling me how much they loved me! I couldn't save them, but I'll be damned if I let someone else die in front of me!**

 **Devi ascoltare- You need to listen**

 **No, dobbiamo andare avanti. Gli ho promesso che avrei detto all'FBI che era lì!- No, we need to keep going. I promised him that I would tell the FBI he was there!**

 **Siena, chi hai promesso?- Siena, who did you promise?**

 **L'uomo, l'uomo che era incatenato al pavimento. L'uomo mascherato aveva bisogno di qualcosa per rompere il suo spirito, e lo avevo infastidito abbastanza da essere attraente per quello scopo. Ci aveva tenuti tutti in gabbia e prendeva piccoli gruppi alla volta per i combattimenti in gabbia. È ironico, come ho sempre desiderato un cane, ma non avrei mai pensato di guardare i miei amici prima di dover combattere come me. Ogni notte avrebbe fatto in modo che tutti tranne me combattevano per l'intrattenimento. Se hai vinto, hai più cibo e letti migliori. Ma se hai perso ... Se hai perso, hai un proiettile. Potevo sentirli dalla mia gabbia, piangere, chiedere l'elemosina per la loro vita, la misericordia. Ma non l'hanno mai ricevuto. Posso ancora sentire lo sparo e il tonfo dei corpi ogni volta che chiudo gli occhi. Ciò che era ancora più ironico era quanto io abbia lottato duramente per proteggere i miei amici, solo per sentirli essere massacrati come animali. Non è stato fino a quando siamo rimasti in undici che ha fermato i combattimenti. Ha detto che aveva bisogno di vendere questo lotto per fare spazio al prossimo. Ho visto i personaggi più schizzinosi colpire e pungolare i miei amici come carne prima di offrire un'offerta. Molti sembravano che mi volessero, ma ero fuori dai limiti. Il premio mascherato dell'uomo per rompere un'anima veramente morale. Disse ai compratori di bruciare i corpi o di portarli oltre il confine, come avrebbe fatto con me.- The man, the man who was chained to the floor. The masked man needed something to break his spirit, and I'd annoyed him enough to be attractive for that purpose. He had kept us all in cages, and would take small groups at a time for the cage fights. It's ironic, how I've always wanted a dog, but I never thought I would watch my friends before forced to fight like one. Each night he would make everyone but me fight for entertainment. If you won, you got more food and better bedding. But if you lost... If you lost, you got a bullet. I could hear them from my cage, crying, begging for their lives, for mercy. But they never received it. I can still hear the gunshot and the thud of the bodies every time I close my eyes. What was even more ironic was how hard I fought to protect my friends, only to hear them be slaughtered like animals. It wasn't until there were eleven of us left that he stopped the fights. He said he needed to sell this batch to make room for the next one. I watched the sketchiest characters poke and prod my friends like meat before offering a bid. Many looked like they wanted me, but I was off limits. The masked man's prize for breaking a truly moral soul. He told the buyers to either burn the bodies, or take them over the border, like he would with me.**

 **L'uomo mascherato era arrogante. Pensava che le mie dimensioni significassero che non sarei una minaccia per i suoi piani. Non mi teneva legato come gli altri una volta che furono venduti; pensava che le costole rotte avrebbero inibito qualsiasi piano di fuga.- The masked man was arrogant. He thought my size meant I would not be a threat to his plans. He didn't keep me bound like the others were once they were sold; he thought broken ribs would inhibit any plan for escape.**

 **Quante costole sono rotte?- How many ribs are broken?**

 **Cinque, penso. È difficile dirlo, non ne ho mai rotto uno prima.- Five, I think. It's hard to tell, I've never broken one before.**

 **Ci hanno provato, ma ho detto loro che sarei scappato se l'avessero fatto. Non sarei al sicuro in un ospedale, e avevo bisogno di parlare con l'FBI. Posso continuare, per favore?- They tried to, but I told them I'd run away if they did. I wouldn't be safe at a hospital, and I needed to speak with the FBI. Can I continue, please?**

 **Ad ogni modo, mi ha trascinato in questo bunker di cemento in cima alla montagna. All'inizio ho pensato che fosse la cabina di un ranger, ma mi sono reso conto di quanto lontano dalla pista fosse quando ho corso. Abbiamo superato tre stanze piene di armi prima di raggiungere il centro del bunker. Mentre le altre stanze avevano solo una guardia, questa aveva almeno sei. Continuavano a fare questi strani commenti e chiedevano se potevano avermi una volta che il capo era finito. Non mi piaceva quanto mi facessero sentire i loro occhi sporchi. Mi spinse nella stanza e vidi un uomo picchiato e insanguinato al centro. Le sue braccia erano incatenate sopra di lui e, quando mi guardò, potei vedere quanto fosse rotto. I suoi occhi erano così morti, era come se la sua anima fosse fuggita dal suo corpo. Ha chiesto se sarebbe stato testimone di un altro omicidio, come se sapesse quanto l'uomo mascherato bramasse la morte. L'uomo mascherato rise e gli disse che sarebbe stato l'assassino per un cambiamento. Che aveva bisogno di pugnalarmi fino a quando ero morto; se non l'avesse fatto, sarebbe stato frustato. Ero convinto che avrebbe chiesto il coltello, ma abbiamo stabilito un contatto visivo e sembrava che mi stesse implorando di fidarmi di lui. Mi ha detto di voltarmi e coprirmi le orecchie, che non avevo bisogno di assistere a quello che sarebbe successo. Perfino con le mie mani che coprono le mie orecchie potrei ancora sentire tutto; la fessura della frusta, lo sfrigolio della sua carne sbrindellata ogni volta che la corda entrava in contatto. Mi sembrarono ore prima che lui chiedesse il coltello. Ero convinto di essere stato un pazzo a fidarmi di lui, soprattutto perché l'uomo mascherato era così allegro. Potevi sentire l'orgoglio nella sua voce quando diceva "buona scelta", come se stesse lodando l'uomo incatenato per un risultato significativo. L'uomo incatenato chiese di essere liberato, ma gli fu chiesto se pensava che l'uomo mascherato fosse un idiota. L'uomo incatenato disse: "No, ma hai intenzione di tenerla a posto mentre la accarezzo con le mie braccia tese sopra la mia testa?" L'uomo mascherato lo sganciò dal soffitto, ma tenne le sue catene incatenate. Mi ha afferrato per la maglietta e mi ha tirato da lui. Ho provato a combattere, ma mi ha rapidamente bloccato a terra. Mi ha detto di urlare e poi ha affettato il palmo della mano mentre abbassava il coltello; poi mi mise la mano sulla bocca come se mi stesse soffocando. Ho preso a calci le gambe come se fossi in difficoltà a liberarmi mentre mi diceva di correre non appena ho visto una finestra. Mi ha detto di non preoccuparmi per lui e di continuare a correre finché non ho trovato un agente di polizia. "Annuisci se capisci," sibilò prima di lanciarsi contro l'uomo mascherato e pugnalarlo alla coscia. Le guardie si sono affrettate ad aiutare il loro capo, e ho colto l'occasione. Ero quasi fuori dalla porta quando lo sentii gridare: "Corri a Siena! Corri a dire all'FBI che Spencer Reid ti ha mandato! Ti aiuteranno".- Anyway, he dragged me into this concrete bunker at the top of the mountain. At first I thought it was a ranger's cabin, but I realized how far off the trail it was when I ran. We passed three rooms stocked with weapons before reaching the center of the bunker. While the other rooms only had a single guard, this one had at least six. They kept making these weird comments, and asking if they could have me once the boss was done. I didn't like how dirty their eyes made me feel. He shoved me into the room, and I saw a man beaten and bloody in the center. His arms were chained above him and, when he looked at me, I could see how broken he was. His eyes were so dead, it was as if his soul had fled from his body. He asked if he was going to be witness to another murder, like he knew how much the masked man craved death. The masked man laughed and told him that he would be the murderer for a change. That he needed to stab me until I was dead; if he didn't, he'd be whipped. I was convinced he'd ask for the knife, but we made eye contact and it looked like he was begging me to trust him. He told me to turn away and cover my ears, that I didn't need to witness what was going to happen. Even with my hands covering my ears I could still hear everything; the crack of the whip, the sizzling of his tattered flesh each time the rope made contact. It felt like hours before he asked for the knife. I was convinced I'd been a fool to trust him,especially since the masked man was so gleeful. You could hear the pride in his voice when he said "good choice", like he was commending the chained man for a significant achievement. The chained man asked to be set free, but was asked if he thought the masked man was an idiot. The chained man said, "no, but are you going to hold her in place while I stab her with my arms stretched above my head?" The masked man unhooked him from the ceiling, but kept his hands chained together. He grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me to him. I tried to fight, but he quickly pinned me to the ground. He told me to scream and then sliced his palm as he brought the knife down; then he put his hand over my mouth like he was suffocating me. I kicked my legs like I was struggling to break free while he told me to run as soon as I saw a window to. He told me to not worry about him, and to keep running until I found a police officer. "Nod if you understand," he hissed before lunging at the masked man and stabbing him in the thigh. The guards rushed in to help their boss, and I took my opportunity. I was almost out the door when I heard him yell, "Run Siena! Run and tell the FBI that Spencer Reid sent you! They'll help you."**

 **L'ho raggiunto fino alla seconda porta quando una delle guardie mi ha afferrato. Ha alzato la pistola come se stesse per spararmi, ma poi si è fermato. Ha sparato ai suoi compagni e mi ha detto di scappare. Non so perché, ma ha deciso di lasciarmi andare. Corsi, correvo così forte perché li sentivo dietro di me. I rami mi graffiavano la faccia e le braccia, ma non potevo usare la strada di servizio. Quello sarebbe il primo percorso che avrebbero seguito. Non ero sicuro che avessero cani, così ho nuotato giù per uno dei ruscelli di montagna per nascondere il mio odore, e ho continuato a cambiare direzione. Non sapevo nemmeno di averlo fatto giù per la montagna finché non avessi visto la strada. Ho lasciato Spencer a morire.- I made it as far as the second door when one of the guards grabbed me. He brought his gun up like he was going to shoot me, but then he paused. He shot his companions, and told me to run. I don't know why, but he decided to let me go. I ran, I ran so hard because I could hear them behind me. The branches scratched my face and arms, but I couldn't use the service road. That would be the first route they'd follow. I wasn't sure if they had dogs so I swam down one of the mountain brooks to hide my scent, and kept changing direction. I didn't even know I'd made it down the mountain until I saw the road. I left Spencer to die.**


End file.
